Exodus
by SeriouslyeverythingItryistaken
Summary: The story of an unlikely band of companions drawn together by necessity and conflict. Everyone is running from something, but not everyone will escape. A retelling of the romance between Marion Hawke and Fenris spanning Dragon Age II and Inquisition. If you love and miss your old DA II companions, you will (hopefully) love this tale, despite the lackluster description!
1. Chapter 1

**This story has a mixture of in-game dialogue and original content (it begins mostly cannon with an AU plot line introduced that will eventually take over). Party banter galore! If you love and miss your old companions from DA2, you will (hopefully) love this. **

**As a longtime lurker first time poster, this is my first fanfic, so I want to try to cover all of my bases in the hopes that I do not break any rules or offend anyone! I rated this story M for cursing mostly, but there is some violence, and smut : )**

**Also, I tried to talk to them about it, but Fenris and Hawke can be a little rough with each other at times. So, if anyone is afraid they might adversely react to some hostile interactions, tread carefully! Things don't get too crazy, but I'm not you and you're not me. What I find tolerable, you may not, and I would hate to mislead anyone.**

**Obligatory: I have no intention of infringing on the rights of Bioware, I am just madly in love with your characters, and miss them. This creation is a way for me to hang out with them again, and share them with this beautiful community.**

**I know there are countless wonderful stories to chose from on this site, so thank you for taking the time to read mine. I sincerely appreciate it.**

* * *

Hawke crossed her legs on the table and leaned back into the unsteady, wooden chair. Sipping her ale, she casually listened to Varric's retelling of her family's flee to Kirkwall. In the year that had passed since their hasty departure from Lothering she had lost her sister, become an indentured servant, released a dragon from a locket, gotten wrapped up in a scheme to enter the deep roads, and made a few spectacularly unorthodox friends. Not surprisingly, none of those accomplishments held a candle to the extravagance that Varric was spouting to the hungry crowd downstairs. What did he call it? Ensuring future job security?

Hawke smiled as he reached the climax of his story, something involving an ogre and a ball of twine.

"…And the rest, is for another day." Varric always liked to end his tales on a cliffhanger.

A collective groan rang out from the front room of the Hanged Man as the music started back up, and the dwarf retreated from his self-made stage. Varric jumped when he saw Hawke waiting in his room,

"Maker Hawke, you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days. Can't you enter through the door like a civilized human? I've heard rumors they exist."

"No doubt rumors started by you." She smiled into her mug of ale, "Having fun?"

He grinned, "We're about to, I received a note from an old contact this morning, Anso. He has some job for us, said to meet him by the docks tonight."

Hawke pointed and flexed her toes, "Excellent, it's been at least a week since someone tried to kill us. I'm starting to think no one cares anymore."

"Don't be so pessimistic, I recall being shot at on your account at least twice yesterday."

"That's sweet, but Isabella gets the credit for that. I'm not sure she understands the technical differences between 'keep watch' and 'screw the dock worker in the alley.'"

"Semantics!" Isabella yelled as she entered the room arm-in-arm with Merrill, Carver trailing closely behind.

"Where's Blondie?" Varric looked over his shoulder at the new arrivals.

"He's at his clinic, I'm actually heading that way." Merrill piped up.

"Oh… so, you won't be coming with us tonight?" Carver asked as nonchalantly as he could manage, which held all of the subtly and nuance of a bull in a china shop.

"Sorry, no. You could come help me if you'd like?" Merrill offered.

Isabella grinned mischievously, "I bet Carver would love to _come_ with you or after you… but if we're being realistic it'll probably be before you."

Carver's face immediately crimsoned, and he started grumbling beneath his breath, turning away from the two.

"I missed something again, didn't I?" Merrill looked confused.

Hawke threw back the rest of her drink, pushing herself from the table, "All right, Varric, Carver, Isabella. Let's head out!"

* * *

"So, is your friend always that twitchy?" Hawke asked skeptically.

"He's a contact, not a friend," Varric corrected, "but you're right. He doesn't fit the bill." He rubbed his hand over his face, sighing, "This is definitely a trap."

"Well, look at it this way: now it's a trap we're willingly walking into." Hawke punched his shoulder and walked ahead briskly.

"Has she always been crazy?" Varric looked to Carver.

"It runs in the family."

* * *

After fighting through what Varric would later exaggerate as hordes of bloodthirsty assassins, the group made their way into the small hovel. Hawke sent a dagger flying into the neck of the last man, releasing an exaggerated moan,

"Doesn't anyone ask first, stab later anymore?" She jerked the sharp blade from the man's crumpled body, wiping the blood on her pants, while Varric inspected the large trunk at the back of the room.

"Totally empty!" He yelled, kicking the trunk shut. "What kind of nug-shit is this? Anso and I are going to have a serious heart-to-heart when we get back, and when I say heart-to-heart, I mean Isabella's fist to his face."

Varric was still ranting as they exited the building, with Isabella egging him on, and Carver rolling his eyes at the scene. So, it was only Hawke who noticed they had been surrounded.

"Guys…"

"And then I'm going to strap him into a chair, in front of his mother…"

Varric ran into Hawke, stumbling backwards,

"Maker Hawke, what are you…" He trailed off as he saw the menacing crowd around them, "Well, shit."

"That's not the elf. What do we do?"

"Doesn't matter. The master said to kill anyone who came out of that house."

Varric stepped forward, "Clearly there has been a misunderstanding. Can't we all just take a minute and—"

An arrow flew by Varric's head, imbedding itself in the wall behind him.

"I guess not."

Isabella threw down a flask of Chameleon's breath, concealing the small group, as Varric shot a bursting arrow into the center of the opposing unit. The resulting explosion and flames killed two men, while dispersing the remaining mercenaries into smaller, frenzied clusters. Hawke sprinted around a group of confused men and cast a powerful gravitic ring. The men's panic increased as they felt the immobilizing pull of her magic,

"They got a ma—"

The man's cry was cut short by Hawke's blade, sheathed hilt-deep, into his throat. Sputtering blood onto the ground, he collapsed. She twisted from the fallen corpse, and joined by Isabella, danced anonymously throughout the group, eliminating them one at a time. While they were occupied, Carver and Varric took on the remainder of the mercenaries. With the help of Varric's debilitating miasmic flask, Carver was able to rush the group, dealing crippling, whirlwind blows with his powerful longsword.

The battle ended quickly. At the end, the four friends stood in a circle bordered by gore and corpses. Finally a lone man stepped out from the shadows of the stairs,

"I don't know who you are friends—"

"Presumptuous." Varric whispered to Isabella.

"Do you two take _anything _seriously?" Carver asked.

"Not unless they're being paid." Hawke turned from the man threatening them, whose words at this point had been completely ignored, to face her brother.

The man had clearly grown both confused and irritated, only getting the attention he desired when he finally shouted,

"Lieutenant! I want everyone in the clearing! Now!"

The stranger held his triumphant gaze on the group until Varric pointed behind him

"Uh, I think there might be a-"

"Captain…" A man stumbled around the corner, bleeding profusely, until finally dropping, lifeless at the Captain's feet.

"…problem." Varric finished lamely.

"Your men are dead, and your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can." A deep voice called from the shadows.

A lean, white haired elf materialized from the darkness. As he approached the group, Hawke observed (as did Isabella, if her appreciative rumblings were any indication) intricate white markings that traveled in delicate patterns all over his skin, like strange tattoos.

Instead of retreating, the slaver captain grabbed the shoulder of the tall elf,

"You're going no where, slave."

Without warning, the elf's tattoos ignited, and a bright bluish-white light spilled from his body, illuminating the dark clearing surrounding them. In one swift movement, the elf twisted his body, shoving his arm deeply into the slaver's chest, and retracted with his still-beating heart.

"I am not a slave." He emphasized each word, dropping the heart next to the corpse.

Hawke's eyes were wide; she spared a quick glance to her companions to see all three of their mouths slightly agape. The frivolous tone from earlier had evaporated completely. A long moment of silence passed between the group and the new stranger.

"I apologize. When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they would be so… numerous."

Hawke gathered herself quickly, hoping to salvage a sliver of her reputation as the unflappable juggernaut that Varric had worked so carefully to construct.

"I take it these men were here for you, then?"

"Correct. My name is Fenris. These men were imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself."

"So, we can assume there's no job then?" Varric had finally recovered from his disbelief.

"That's not entirely true, the job simply wasn't what was originally presented." Fenris offered.

"This seems like a lot of effort to go through for one slave." Carver had also found his voice, along with his skepticism.

Fenris turned to make eye contact with him, "It is."

"Does this have something to do with those markings then?" Isabella practically purred next to Varric.

Fenris looked down at his body and arms, "Yes, I imagine I must look strange to you. However, these markings have served me well. Without them, I would still be a slave."

Hawke exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, "Well, I suppose killing slavers isn't a complete waste of time. Good luck to you." She began to move past the elf, signaling the others to follow.

"Wait." Fenris commanded the rapidly retreating group, "My master has accompanied them to the city, and I will need your help to confront them."

"Listen, elf…enris, we'd love to help, but storming the house of a prepared Tevinter magister… is not really our forte. I'm not sure its anyone's for that matter." Varric tried to be as diplomatic as possible, hoping to prevent another heart-wrenching scene.

"He will be prepared. However," the elf judged the carnage surrounding the companions, "you and your friends should meet no greater difficulty than you can handle." Fenris eyed the still distrustful group, "and you may take whatever boon is left in the house upon completion."

The group's hesitation lessened noticeably, and they glanced around at one another before Hawke finally accepted, "Lets go kill us a magister."

* * *

The battle inside the mansion was hard fought, but profitable, as promised. Fenris, clearly distressed by the departure of the magister, stormed outside, leaving the party to loot the decaying home. Noticing the trail of blood left behind, Hawke followed the injured elf, leaving her friends to finish gathering valuables.

The fresh air was a wonderful reprieve from the stale mansion; Hawke took a deep, appreciative breath, allowing the night air to cool her sore and overworked limbs. Looking around for Fenris, Hawke spotted him close by, leaning against a wall in the courtyard.

"It never ends," he said, "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul." He exhaled, angry and defeated.

Hawke immediately felt uncomfortable and intrusive; she was at a loss for words in the face of such unexpected resentment and honesty. She had often felt similarly toward her magic, and the adverse affects it had on her family: a life of hiding and living in poverty, the stout bitterness of her brother, and the constant sorrow of her mother. It was one of the reasons she had worked so hard to hone her skills as a rogue. She never wanted to be a slave to her magic, to have it hinder her or her family any more than it already had.

Despite that however, training her magic with her father and sister had been some of the happiest moments of her life. It was only with the death of her father that her enjoyment began to diminish, and when her sister had perished too, magic had strictly become a means to an end; nothing more than an unfortunate reality of her life. Gone were the long afternoons spent discussing their father's philosophies, practicing constant control and vigilance, and maybe setting Carver's breeches on fire once… or twice. Bethany would always immediately extinguish them of course, appalled (and only slightly amused) by Hawke's rashness.

She smiled at the memory of her sister. Bethany had been such a uniquely beautiful soul; her spirit never dampened by their situations. She and Hawke had been complete opposites. Where Bethany had been soft, compassionate, and gentle, Hawke was sharp, sarcastic, and biting. Bethany was cool water, and Hawke was a burning fire.

Hawke suddenly realized that she had been silent for far too long, lost in her memories. Focusing her eyes, she met Fenris's scrutinizing gaze.

"You're injured." She reached for his hand roughly, gathering mana in her palm, "I'm not the best, but despite Varric's insistence that I once replaced all of his fingers with thumbs, I can get the job done." She began to channel the energy around the elf's open wound.

He seethed out a curse and violently pulled away from her, grabbing her arm in the process. Twisting her hand behind her so that he was now situated at her back, his skilled stance threatened to break her arm if she moved. She had been so preoccupied by her thoughts she hadn't even considered he would react adversely to her magic. Chastising herself, her mind raced, trying to surmise an escape.

"I should have realized sooner what you are. I could feel your energy, but I could not explain it. You hide your nature well, mage." He spit out the last word like poison.

"And here I was thinking I had just done you a favor, I guess you're not interested in tea later?" Hawke snarled.

"I need no favors from a mage."

She sent her head flying back into his nose, hearing a satisfying crack; she broke free as he stumbled back. Spinning around to face him, she pulled out her daggers.

Just then, Varric, Carver, and Isabella exited the mansion laughing, arms spilling over with loot.

"And then he said, 'your eyes are like bumblebees, flying into the-'" Isabella trailed off as they approached the scene.

Hawke and Fenris were now facing each other, weapons drawn, with Fenris's bloody nose running down the front of his armor. Carver dropped the materials in his arm, drawing his longsword and taking his place near his sister.

"I suggest you step back, Elf."

"Carver, stay out of this," Hawke spoke sharply to her brother, but kept her eyes locked on the elf. Carver glared at her, but remained rooted to his spot.

"I think an explanation is in order." Varric tired to restore some semblance of order.

"You harbor a viper in your midst, it will turn on you and strike when you least expect." Fenris spit blood onto the ground.

Varric sighed, "Ah, this is a magic thing. Listen, Hawke has saved my ass more times than I care to count, and yours several times now as well. I think we can at least be civil about this."

"I'm not blind. I know magic has its uses, but even the best intentioned mage can fall pray to temptation," he eyes remained trained on Hawke, "and then their power is a curse to inflict upon others."

"No one is stopping you from moving on, you know." Isabella was displeased with the threatening of her friend.

Fenris slowly began to lower his weapon, recognizing a lost battle when he saw one.

"I imagine I appear ungrateful."

"You don't say." Varric drawled, sarcastically.

"I apologize. Nothing could be further from the truth." Fenris paused, reaching into a small satchel tied to his side, and retrieving a pile of coins. "I did not find Denarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all of the coin promised to you by Anso. I will take my leave."

Varric took the coin, and Fenris turned to go. Hawke and Carver held their positions.

"Who's Denarius?" Isabella whispered to Varric, who put his head in his hands.

"Context clues, Ravaini, context clues."

After walking away a few paces, Fenris paused, looking over his shoulder at Varric. He hesitated, as if second-guessing what he was about to say, but continued anyway,

"Should you find yourselves in need of assistance in the future, I would render it."

"Hawke is the leader of our merry band of misfits, she'll have to be the final say on that." Varric stepped aside.

Fenris's eyes switched from Varric to Hawke, still poised to pounce,

"Are you willing to work with mages? Or will this continue to be a problem?" She asked; all emotion removed from her voice.

"I will not interfere with your abilities, unless my own life is at stake, but I cannot pretend that I will not watch you. Closely."

"Kinky." Isabella nudged Varric, cutting the tension.

Hawke's lips twitched involuntarily,

"We'll be in touch."

* * *

"Well that was simply enthralling." Varric entered his suite, sliding large mugs of ale across the table.

The group had convened with Aveline, Merrill, and Anders at the Hanged Man to regale in the night's events. Merrill was petting a tabby cat Anders had 'begrudgingly' adopted at her insistence.

"His name is General Meow," she introduced the cat to Carver, who raised his eyebrows at Anders.

"She's the mastermind behind that one," Ander's shrugged, "Though I cannot say Sir Pounce-A-Lot wouldn't approve."

Across the table, Aveline was not enjoying the recapping of their evening,

"He threatened you?" It had taken time for her to move past a man having his heart pulled out, but she was absolutely not tolerating the elf's aggressive behavior towards Hawke.

"Can he be trusted?"

Hawke had remained mostly silent since the incident in Hightown earlier that evening,

"I think we can." She said it without fully understanding why she believed it to be true, "I don't think he'd trust me to watch his baby or anything, but I'm not sure I see him as a threat to our safety."

"In all fairness, Hawke, I don't think anyone who knows you would leave you alone with a baby." Varric joked.

"Laugh it up dwarf, if you ever pop one out, guess who's not offering free services." Hawke stood, draining the remainder of her drink, "I'm going home. Keep an eye on Carver, will you?" She smiled at Aveline, briefly resting a hand on her shoulder before sneaking down the stairs.

Once outside, she paced up and down the alley, too wired and cross to head home immediately.

_The nerve of that ungrateful son of a bitch_.

Thinking about the venomous way he had addressed her had been a growing irritation in the pit of her stomach. She had been attempting to conceal her bruised ego all evening. Just because she did not consider him a threat, did not mean that he hadn't greatly wounded her pride, harshly reminding her that her liability as a mage was never lost, no matter what she did to offset it. She thought of his confession:

'_like a plague burned into my flesh and my soul'_

How close to home those words had hit. For one blissful moment, she had seen an equal, someone who understood the agonizing responsibility of a life chosen for you.

Laughing bitterly, she punched the alley wall. Old plaster cracked and crumbled around her bruised and now bloodied fist.

_That fucking asshole_.

She turned away from the wall, running directly into what she would soon come to recognize as the immovable figure of Fenris.

* * *

Fenris had walked the halls of Denarius's decrepit mansion restlessly after the departure of the strange group.

_How could he have been so foolish?_

He had been successfully on the run for three years, and he had risked it all by putting himself in the hands of another mage, a clever mage at that. The familiar thrumming of the lyrium beneath his skin had been present, but hadn't actually seen the woman perform any spells nor wield a staff; instead she had played the role of an adept rogue. He had been blinded by his desire to see Denarius destroyed, but he would not let it happen again.

Fenris continued his pacing, attempting to hold onto his fury, so as not to face the hollow void of the mansion around him. However, as time wore on his irritation dissipated.

He thought of the woman, Hawke. She had not been what he had expected. Her hair had been long and dark, tied back low on her neck. She had a small, lithe frame, and severe features, with sharp lines and piercing eyes. But all in all, she had seemed a standard woman. Nothing like the gargantuan beast the rumors led him to expect. She was nevertheless, undoubtedly talented and commanded a powerful group. Perhaps that is where the rumors prevailed. Unfortunately, that made her all the more dangerous.

Still, the loyalty shown by her party was admirable. Devotion beyond coin was hard to find in a mercenary band, and it deserved respect. She had also not only aided him in thwarting the slavers, but had willingly ambushed the hideout of a Tevinter Magister. Albeit for coin, he reminded himself. When she had approached him outside however, it had been to offer unprompted assistance.

_And you attacked her, the one person in this city who might be able to help you defeat Denarius_

Before he knew what he was doing, he had left the mansion and began moving through the sleeping city toward Lowtown.

* * *

Fenris found the Hanged Man easily; it was sort of hard to miss. He was considering what he might say as he approached the front of the building, still not sure he shouldn't return to the mansion, when he heard the dull crunch of plaster around the corner. Investigating the sound, he saw Hawke, slowly removing her fist from the small crevasse it had created in the decaying wall.

Shaking off the pain, and pieces mortar, she turned and walked rapidly down the alley running straight into Fenris. Startled by the forceful contact, they both staggered back a few steps before righting themselves.

"Fenris." Her eyes narrowed, and he felt them cutting through him like sharp daggers.

"Hawke."

A long moment of silence passed between the two before he chose to break it.

"I wanted to… apologize for earlier."

Hawke remained impassive, so he continued,

"Missing an opportunity to catch Denarius left me in an undesirable state, and I may have… Lashed out unnecessarily toward you." He felt disarmed by her, unsure if he had made the right decision is coming here. He struggled to find each word; "I stand by my intentions. As would you if you lived through the corruption of the magisters." He could see that he was winning no further support. "However, I see that I might have been… misguided in this particular situation."

Hawke allowed the silence to hang in the air. Fenris had just made the choice to leave when she finally spoke.

"Fenris, I do not know you or your shit, and honestly right now I don't care. So let me make this very clear: I will never endanger my friends or family. I include myself in that danger, as I was taught. If you're with us, great. But I will not have mood swings, bullshit prejudice, and second guessing threaten their safety."

He studied her pointedly, searching for a lie or a weakness. He found none. "Understood."

Hawke stuck out her hand, a gesture of truce. After another short moment, Fenris gripped it firmly in return.

"We usually meet at the Hanged Man. Maybe I'll run into you there."

He nodded and released her hand,

"Perhaps you shall." He bowed his head very slightly and turned to walk away.

"Fenris, your arm." She nodded to his wound, "It's still bleeding. Allow me to heal it?"

It was posed as a question, but Fenris knew it was a test. A test that held a myriad of unspoken challenges.

He turned to face her, and without breaking eye contact, slowly extended his arm toward her outstretched hand. He watched her carefully as she gathered her mana, sending streams of energy swirling over his wound. His tattoos lit up beneath her touch as red, flickering ribbons of magic slowly drew the gash shut. When it had been completely sealed, save for a light pink line, he removed his arm from her grasp.

"Thank you." He conceded.

"See you tomorrow Fenris."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! Thank you guys so much for following my story! That felt amazing to get online and see five beautiful names, and one review! I cannot possibly describe the elation. Here is chapter two, I hope everyone enjoys it **

**I want to be as regular as possible with posting, but I'm about to enter finals week so there is a possibility I won't be able to really hit a schedule until after that, but I'm going to keep it coming! Please let me know if you have any comments, suggestions, or whatever. I can always use the fuel. **

**Again, thank you so much for reading and hopefully enjoying this story, it feels wonderful.**

**This chapter is dedicated to the Historian and moralist Lord Acton, without whom Anders wouldn't have an awesome quote.**

* * *

"You cannot be seriously considering this? Releasing Feynriel to the Dalish, while misguided, was one thing. Freeing proven maleficar is entirely different." Anger filled Fenris's voice.

"Oh what a surprise, dissent from the mage hater. You see blood mages everywhere you look! These are people, frightened and defending themselves." Anders antagonized from the other side of Hawke.

"Both of you shut up. Let me think." Hawke ran her hands through her hair, considering her options.

She looked out at the pale, worried faces of the mages in the cave around them, enclosed by bodies of their dead comrades and the undead they had raised.

She had responded to Thrask's letter with the hope of protecting innocent mages from the ever-increasing wrath of Meredith's iron first, but could she really call these men and women blameless? How far had Decimus's use of blood magic gone? Could she risk releasing maleficar freely into Thedas?

Hawke considered frightened Alain, so worried and clearly guiltless of the atrocities committed by the others, could she live with condemning them all for the mistakes of a few?

"I know what you're thinking Hawke, even if they are innocent of this man's crimes, however doubtful, the circle is still the safest place. For them, for _everyone_." Fenris attempted to persuade her.

"And leave them to the growing madness of Meredith? Even you must recognize that the Templar order is tearing at the seams, Fenris." Ander's pointed an accusing finger at him, "Corruption isn't just something that happens to mages. Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely."

"I've seen true corruption, Abomination, and there is nothing that compares to the depravity of unimpeded magic."

"If you two don't stop arguing, I'll show you both depravity." Hawke glared at Anders and Fenris, then turned her questioning gaze to Varric.

Varric shrugged his arms, looking guilty, "Sorry Hawke, this is out of my wheelhouse. It's going to have to be your call."

Seeing Hawke's hesitation Grace spoke up, "I told Decimus he was going too far, but he said it was the only way to protect us. To protect m—"

"Then you are foolish, which is just as dangerous as someone with intent." Fenris interrupted the story, earning a glare from Hawke.

"Fenris is right, blood magic is never the answer." Hawke grudgingly supported the elf.

"Please… we only want our freedom. Without your help, the Templars will execute us all for Decimus's crimes."

This gave Hawke pause, "Where do you intend to go?"

"I… I hear there are places, outside the Free Marches, where the Templars are not so vigilant." Grace proposed.

Hawke, sighed, overwhelmed with indecision, "I cannot condemn you to death. If you agree to leave Kirkwall… we will help."

Relief washed over Grace's face, "Then we must first throw off our pursuit. Kill the Templars at the front of the cave and we can get clear before they send more men."

Fenris scoffed, "You ask us to commit murder."

Hawke's brow furrowed, worried by Grace's eager tone.

"The death of a few to save many seems a small sacrifice." Anders offered.

"No." Hawke was firm in her stance.

"We could distract them." Varric spoke up, "Send them in the wrong direction; by the time I'm done, the Templars will swear that the sky is green."

Hawke smiled at Varric, relieved by the levity he could bring to any situation, "Perfect. Lets go."

Fenris was the last to follow, still judging Grace, "This is a mistake," he sighed, finally turning to shadow his rapidly retreating companions.

* * *

By the time they reached the mouth of the cave, more Templars had arrived.

"Who is this?" a Templar Hawke recognized as Karras addressed them accusingly.

Hawke looked to Varric, raising an eyebrow, "Tell him who we are."

"What's the trouble, Ser Thrask? Did the knight-commander forget to tell Ser Karras that knight-commander Greagoir sent us from Ferelden to help you root out rebel mages?"

Thrask's caught on quickly, "Uh, yes. Yes, I was just about to tell him."

"We've completed our investigation. There is no one left alive inside." Varric finished.

"All that blood," Hawke groaned, "And these boots were new."

Karras judged Hawke and her companions. Covered in gore as they were, the story checked out, for now.

"The leader ran out the back. Blighting coward abandoned his men. You could probably still catch him if you hurry." Hawke lied.

"Uh, right." Varric jumped in, "I couldn't really see, but it looked like the cavern led out to the coast. I'd send your men that way."

There was an excruciating silence while Karras assessed the companions,

"The coast you say? Men, fan out, search the shore. We will retrieve these corpses later." Karras finally ordered the group.

Thrask nodded a silent thanks to Hawke and followed the remaining Templars. Once they had all disappeared around the corner, the party released a collective breath of relief.

Grace emerged from the shadows of the cavern, the timid mages shrinking behind her, "I didn't think you could do it." She laughed with disbelief; " I did not think and of us would leave those caves alive."

"Well, officially you were killed during escape." Hawke joked.

"I will do my best to seem cold and rotten, then." Grace smiled, "Thank you friend, for everything." She turned to the other mages, "Now, we must flee as far as we can before nightfall."

The companions watched as the mages departed into the distance.

"You made the right decision Hawke." Anders placed a supportive hand and her shoulder.

"We shall see about that." Fenris spoke from the shade of the cave, having kept his silence throughout the ordeal.

"If only we were all lucky enough to possess your foresight," Anders replied sardonically.

"If only indeed, Abomination." Fenris stared pointedly at Anders.

"I won't condemn someone on a maybe, Fenris," Hawke tried to appeal to his sense of reason, "Surely you can understand their desire for freedom?"

"The circle isn't slavery," he argued, "It is protection. For mages as well as others."

"Would you send me to the circle?" Hawke's irritation was growing.

That gave Fenris pause, would he send her to the circle? He had grown accustomed to her leadership, and she might very well be the determining factor in defeating Denarius, but he did not think The Circle was the boogeyman she imagined it to be.

"I… there are always exceptions to the rule, Hawke. That does not mean the rule isn't necessary." He left the cave, keeping his stride ahead of the rest of the group.

"What an ass." Anders sighed, following the elf and leaving Hawke and Varric alone.

"What do you think Varric?"

"I think…. I need a drink." Varric concluded simply.

Hawke watched her retreating companions, "Me too."

* * *

Several weeks had passed since Fenris's introduction to their team, and it had gone rather smoothly Varric thought, especially considering its turbulent beginning. He was a strong sword, and a powerful wraith in combat. Delivering a strength they had been missing since their personal battering ram had begun training for Guard Captain.

Despite his terrifying presence in battle, the elf was a quiet, brooding sort, which actually complimented the already boisterous group, and provided ample material for Varric's stories. Every good tale had a mysterious character of questionable intent.

While Fenris was still not shy about his strong distaste for all things magic, immediately putting him at ends with Blondie (the self-appointed pro-mage speaker that the mage plight never asked for), he had built a surprising rapport with Hawke; aide from their almost regularly scheduled arguments. Their unique fighting styles worked together impeccably, and Hawke's enigmatic leadership: a mixture of loyalty and cleverness with just a touch of reckless abandon, had obviously commanded the elf's respect.

"Thinking of new ways to cheat me out of my coin, dawrf?" Hawke pulled him from his musing, eyeing him suspiciously over her cards.

"Hawke, if I took any more of your coin, I could fund the Deep Roads expedition myself," Varric laughed, "I was _actually_ thinking about how well everything's been going lately."

"Barring the daily live threatening event, blood mages, and the Qunari quandary, I assume?" Hawke goaded.

"Naturally." Varric traded out a card, "Also, I'm stealing the Qunari quandary. Never underestimate the power of a well used alliteration."

"Noted. Now, show me what you've got." She laid her cards on the table.

Varric let out an exaggerated lament of defeat, "Very good, Hawke, very good."

A triumphant smile began to spread across the mage's face.

"But not good enough." Varric revealed his hand, a full matching suit that completely decimated Hawke's.

"You're a cheater Tethras, and as soon as I figure out how you do it, I will own your chest hair and Isabella's breeches."

"Hawke, cheating _is _the game, and as soon as you wrap your pointy little face around that, I will promptly move on to a younger, more gullible group of friends," Varric began to gather the cards together.

Hawke stretched her arms over her head. "I'm out. I told Aveline I would drop by the barracks tonight."

"Oh, perfect. If you're heading up to Hightown," Varric paused, rifling through his desk, "save me a trip, and give this to Broody." He handed Hawke an unmarked envelope.

"What is it?"

"The deed to that moldy pile of stone he calls a home. It won't keep the city off of him forever, but it should at least give Aveline a better excuse to keep him on the bottom of her to-do list."

"How did you get the deed to Denarius's mansion?"

"Don't look so impressed Hawke, I'm a businessman after all… who occasionally shoots people."

She examined him doubtfully.

"And… it's fake. But a really good fake." He winked at her as she shook her head, turning to leave.

* * *

Hawke paused in front of Fenris' mansion, unsure of whether she should knock or let herself in. Opting to avoid bloodshed, she knocked loudly. When there was no response, she tentatively pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Fenris?" She entered the main hall.

A crash, followed by what seemed to be a year's worth of grime and dirt spilled from the door to her left as Fenris emerged, coughing and dusting off his armor.

"Does no one knock in this blighted city? I caught Merrill baking bread in the kitchen this morning."

"I did knock, you didn't answer." She tried not to smile at the image of Fenris chasing Merrill from his home.

"And that provokes an invitation? Manners outside of the Imperium are disconcerting." Fenris continued removing debris from his armor.

"I'm relatively sure we're just rude." Hawke smirked, holding out the envelope, "Here, Varric sent me with this. It's the deed to the mansion."

He took the letter, trading her for the wine bottle he had been holding, and immediately opened it, walking passed her and up the stairs.

Hawke followed, looking down at the bottle in her hand, "What's this?"

"Agreggio Pavali." He replied distractedly, "There are six bottles in the cellar."

Hawke studied his creased brow, wondering what in the letter could be causing his frustration. He seemed to give up on whatever it was; flinging the paper onto an empty table as they entered the only room he occupied out of the entire mansion. She considered seating herself on the couch, but in lieu of their most recent disagreement, opted for standing near the door instead, assuming the hammer of his ire would drop sooner than later.

Tossing him back the wine, she was about to make her exit when he spoke again.

"Denarius used to have me pour this for his guests." He began to open the wine, "my appearance intimidated them, which he enjoyed." The cork made a satisfying pop as it was pulled from the bottle.

Hawke looked over the elf, he was certainly attractive, but she could easily see how his sharp gauntlets, strange markings, and generally acidic demeanor could elicit concern in the viewer.

"Dark and indomitable," she joked, "I can't imagine why they would be put off..." he glowered at her, "Well, maybe the death stare isn't for everyone."

He shook his head, "You say what's on your mind. I'll give you that."

Taking a swig of the wine, he held it out towards Hawke. She took the bottle, hesitating a moment before drinking a mouthful, and passing it back. There was a long silence while he eyed it disdainfully, until he suddenly heaved it forcefully against the wall. The bottle exploded, showering the room in pieces of glass and a misting of wine.

"My charming wit isn't contagious, I promise." She looked at Fenris, bemused.

"There's more if you're interested." He motioned behind him indifferently.

"Perish the thought," she waved her hand dramatically, "How else would you redecorate the walls?"

Taken aback, he began to laugh, but stopped himself, as if thinking better of it. There was another minute of uncomfortable silence before he cleared his throat,

"I've wanted to leave my past behind me, but it won't stay there." He sat himself in a chair across the room, "Have you never wanted to return to Ferelden?"

She took a moment to ponder the question, walking slowly around the room. The possibility of returning had been a thought she had strategically avoided. Finding that the idea only filled her with a heavy melancholy. Lothering no longer represented the safe simplicity of her childhood. It had instead become a place of loss and death.

Stopping by the open window, she finally responded, "Ferelden will always be my home, but that is… a complicated question." She offered as much as she was willing.

"Indeed." He seemed to understand her reservation.

"How about you? Do you intend to stay in Kirkwall?" Hawke asked to keep the conversation moving, now wishing she had taken up his offer of another bottle of wine.

"I haven't decided. For now its as good as any other place." He paused, "I would return to Seheron if I could, but…" a bitterness entered his voice, "there is no life for me there."

She raised her brows, Maker_ knows there must be a story ther_e. "Is that where you're from?"

"So I've been told." He answered simply

Hawke tilted her head, confused, "were you very young when you left?"

"Perhaps."

Andraste's tits, getting him to speak was like felling an ogre. Though Hawke supposed her own habit of humorous deflection tended to have the same irritating effect on others. She watched from the window as he sat back in the large chair, staring into the fire. She couldn't decide what to make of him. His opinions were confusing, his reactions were jarring, and his game was still unknown. Maker, he was one of the most interesting and infuriating individuals she'd ever met.

He didn't appear to be particularly disinterested in her company, so she moved from the window to a dusty couch near the hearth.

"Will you track down Denarius?"

He remained quiet for a long moment before answering,

"I assume he has returned to Minrathous. It would be unwise of me to attack him there, under the protection of the Imperium. I imagine he'll come looking for me again, sooner or later, and when he does I'll be ready." His gaze shifted passed her while he spoke, imagining the battle in the room behind her.

His eyes focused intensely on hers once more, halting before speaking again, as if what he was about to say next would take great effort,

"I do not expect your help when that day comes, but I would not turn it aside."

She held his stare while knots began to form in her stomach that weren't entirely unpleasant. Breaking the contact, she turned towards the warmth of the fire instead.

"And miss the opportunity to add Tevinter Magister to my repertoire? Varric might arrange to have you shipped back to the Imperium if you don't invite us."

A wry grin spread across her face as she finally looked back at him. He had already shifted his attention away, a small smile playing through his features as he looked at the floor, focusing on nothing in particular.

"You've been on the run for a long time now, haven't you?"

"Almost three years," he sighed, "Denarius always has a way of finding me. Perhaps it is the markings." He considered the white lines that danced across his arms, "whatever the means, it never takes him long to follow. This is the first time I've given him reason to pause. Perhaps there truly is strength in numbers."

Her brow furrowed, she had never considered that he had been on his own for so long. She couldn't imagine life without someone like Varric to keep her sane, and alive. Even her combative and aggravating brother was preferable to such isolation. "It seems reckless to have been alone this entire time. Haven't you ever sought outside help?"

"Hirelings, when I could steal the coin. Never anyone of substance, until you" he seemed to weigh his next words carefully, "tell me, what do you do when you stop running?"

Hawke was confused by the question,

"You survive, and move on. What else do you want?"

Her response seemed to anger him,

"Something different. So should you."

There was a stifling hush in the room until Fenris spoke again.

"Forgive me, your life is your own, it simply… sounds very familiar." He seemed unsettled. By his outburst or her answer, she did not know.

"No. You're right." Hawke sighed in a rare moment of sincerity, "I'm just not really sure I've stopped running yet."

They shared a knowing glance, each coming to an understanding of the other.

"You know, if you're looking to start a life, you could always stay." Hawke wasn't sure what prompted the offer; it has slipped out without much deliberation.

He considered her suggestion, "We shall see."

They both watched the crackling fire, savoring the calm that seemed an infrequent commodity in their lives. Hawke, rose from the couch, deciding to make her exit when Fenris's words stopped her,

"I… should thank you again for helping me against the hunters, and apologize for my actions after. You have proven your fortitude several times over." A small, sly smile flickered across his face before disappearing, "Had I known Anso would find me a woman so… capable, I might have asked him to look sooner."

Hawke turned away quickly, completely disarmed and hiding her rapidly reddening face. Trusting her flush wasn't visible from her distance in the dim lighting, she glanced over her shoulder as she exited the room,

"Maybe_ I_ should be thanking Anso." _Attagirl_, she encouraged herself, _take back control_.

Amusement colored his speech, "Maybe you should."

* * *

The cool night air was a welcome relief to her warm face and disoriented senses. Andraste's ass, why had she said that? Why had _he_ said that? Why was her heart trying its best to beat itself straight out of her chest?

She tried to pinpoint the moment they had shelved their mutual distain, but she couldn't. It hadn't been a single moment really, but rather small demonstrations here and there that had finally added up to something that resembled respect.

He still fervently disagreed with many of her choices, but she had to admit, she hadn't exactly allied with meek companions. What had been the tipping point, though? She thought back to a fight in Darktown earlier that week: his powerful swings governing the battle, while she used her magic and light feet to surprise her prey from the shadows. Her deadly strikes complimenting his final blows.

_It was the fighting_.

Their combat styles had become remarkably in-tune with each other over the past few weeks. The entire party was skilled, operating like a well-oiled machine, but they had all been working together for months now, some almost a year. The type of fluidity shared between her and Fenris was subconscious, and with it they were truly unstoppable. To fighters like them, that type of bond was a sacred one, and the appreciation developing from it was resolute, even if they found disagreement elsewhere. She smiled, amused that they had discovered their compatibility through conflict. Hawke thought about each of her companions, her new family, and her grin spread further. Maybe she had stopped running after all.

Suddenly the bell tower rang, jolting her from her thoughts, and announcing the late hour.

"Shit, Aveline is going to kill me."


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, that was a complete waste of time." Hawke dragged her feat as they left the Viscount's Keep.

"Oh, don't say that. We uh…. We… I got nothing." Varric gave up his search for a silver lining, "We should have stayed at the Hanged Man."

"And this is why I don't do jobs for nobles. Too much baggage." Isabella chimed in.

"Coming from the woman who shipwrecked _into_ Kirkwall." Varric mumbled.

Isabella smiled at him, "What can I say? I like to make an entrance."

"I just don't understand why Seamus wanted to run away with the Qunari. They always seem so cross." Merrill wondered, mostly to herself.

"I don't know Daisy, he just wasn't using his head."

"At least not the one on his shoulders." Isabella nudged at Hawke's ribs.

Merrill's eyes went wide and curious, "I didn't know humans had more than one head."

"Just the men, kitten." The pirate laughed.

Merrill looked amazed, "I'll have to ask Carver next time I see him."

"Better yet, lets go ask him now!" Isabella grabbed Merrill's hand and they ran off towards Lowtown.

Varric and Hawke continued their leisurely pace, placing bets on what color Carver's face would be when they made it back to the Hanged Man. They had almost reached the main stairs leading to Lowtown when a voice hailed them from the shadows.

"Pssssst."

Hawke glanced towards the noise, but Varric pulled her along without pause.

"Just keep walking Hawke, nothing good ever came from an introduction like that." They continued on.

"You there, Fereldan! I wish to speak with you." An older, distinguished looking man stumbled after them.

The two stopped and turned around to face him, cultivating masks of disinterest.

The man attempted to regain some composure and dignity, straightening his coat and jutting his chin upwards, "You have gained quite a reputation…Hawke," his indignant tone gave way to a timid whisper at the arrival of her name.

Hawke concealed a grin; she really had to commend Varric on his legend building. The dwarf was an artist.

the man continued after failing to receive a response from his original baiting, "I have heard that you can get things done 'on the sly' as they say?"

Varric tried and failed to suppress a smile, "Is that what the kids are saying these days?"

The man ignored the Dawrf, addressing Hawke directly, "A man I sentenced to a life in prison has escaped custody. He has been tracked to an abandoned ruin outside the city. I would like you to retrieve the fugitive and hand him over to the guard."

If she hadn't been suspicious before, she certainly was now. "What's so special about this man that you would hire mercenaries?"

"He's escaped. That's reason enough to catch him." He answered brusquely.

Hawke sighed, turning to Varric, "Why won't anyone be honest with me?"

The dwarf shrugged, "Rumors say it's a tie between your off-putting demeanor and your general odor."

Hawke turned back to the man, "Look, we're both…" she struggled to find a word, "…intelligent people. There's something else, isn't there?"

"There is something, yes. There are… creatures. The guards I sent are ill equipped to deal with such beasts."

"It looks like you've got a real problem, unfortunately we're not a charity. The job sounds like its better suited for the guard." Varric nodded at Hawke to leave.

"No, wait! If you bring the fugitive in alive, not only will you be paid extensively, but you will also have the gratitude of a city magistrate. Surely that means something?"

They ceased their retreat.

"Hook, line, and sinker Hawke." Varric winked, and turned to face the magistrate, clasping his hands together eagerly,

"How much exactly is… _extensively_?"

* * *

An hour later they were headed to the Wounded Coast with Aveline, and Fenris in tow.

"What are you getting us into, Hawke?" Aveline called from the back of the party.

"Would it make you feel better if I made something up? Or does a blind hunch work for you?" The magistrate had told her _something_, but the truth had definitely not been it.

Fenris sighed, exchanging a tired glance with the other warrior.

As the group reached the abandoned ruin, they were surprised to see it swarming with private guards and an angry mob of elves. Hawke approached one of the armed men,

"I hear you're having a bit of trouble."

"You must be the reinforcements the magistrate sent." He looked Hawke up and down skeptically, "The man we're after ran in there," he gestured to a cave behind him, "I've already lost a few men going in after him, I'm not wasting any more."

"Why was the city guard not informed of this?" Aveline pushed forward, addressing the man sternly.

"The…uh well, I'm not rightly sure, ser. These were the instructions." He shrunk away from Aveline's domineering form.

One of the angry elves broke off from the mob, rapidly stalking toward them.

"That bastards is to be brought in alive after what he's done?" he yelled, "Just because it isn't you and your pretty little shemlin children he's after?" the man's volume was increasing.

"I doubt any of these guards have to worry about having pretty children." Hawked turned to the elf.

"That is not what I meant." The elf's irritation was growing, "The man you're after, he targets elves. He dragged my daughter into those caves and killed her!" the elf was screaming now, "I want him dead!"

The group stood in shocked silence.

He attempted to calm himself, "My girl Leah, she wasn't his first victim. Over the years he's taken dozens of our children and not once has he paid for his crimes." He looked accusingly at the armed guard.

Hawke turned her gaze to the guard as well, "And what do you have to say about this?"

"All I know is we've got instructions. You're both bleeding mad if you think we'll be going against the magistrate's orders."

"Well, its a good thing you and your men are cowering out here then, isn't it?" Fenris stepped next to Hawke.

"Call off your pet elf, _friend_." the guard poked a finger at Hawke's chest.

"Why do I think he doesn't mean that?" Varric whispered to Aveline.

"The magistrate will have all your heads."

"Better men have tried, and failed." Hawke crossed her arms.

"Horribly." Fenris added, the dull glow of his markings, slowly growing brighter. Hawke couldn't hide her enjoyment of the guard's horror.

"We cannot take the law into our own hands, Hawke," Aveline interrupted.

"You of all people know the system is broken, Aveline," Hawke faced her friend.

"So we should just completely disregard it? Is there no hope of making it better?" Aveline countered.

"Hawke, you know I'm not one to side with the law, but this…" he looked down at the ground, hesitating, "Do we really want to piss off a magistrate?"

Hawke looked toward Fenris for his inevitable two cents, "I stand by you. This man will not face justice at the hands of the law."

She sighed at the tied vote. "We're not deciding anything here. I want to meet this bastard."

* * *

"Why is it _always_ giant spiders?" Hawke yelled as she spun away from one of the eight-legged freaks, conjuring a funnel of fire around her.

Fenris was taking down hordes of beasts across the room. Hawke watched a venomous spider stalk behind him while he focused on two creatures attacking from the front. Without time to consider, she sprinted towards them, summoning pull of the abyss as she ran. The spider was strong, and while its movements slowed, it was still advancing onto a distracted Fenris.

"Fenris, behind you!" Hawke shouted, sprinting faster, and throwing herself into a slide on her knees. Raising her daggers, she glided beneath its belly, slicing from back to front. Fenris turned around just in time to see the beast collapsing, and Hawke jumping up to stand, covered in ooze and gore.

Varric whooped from the opposite side of the room, taking down the last creature with a quick rhyming triplet, "Hawke! That was bad ass!"

She turned, taking an exaggerated bow for Varric.

"Oh, come on you three." Aveline had already begun leading the charge from the room. Fenris nodded in a quick thanks to Hawke, who patted his shoulder and jogged after Aveline.

* * *

After more rooms, and many more spiders, they finally found a flight of stairs leading out into yet another hall surrounded by stone and fire. However, this time there was a young elven girl collapsed in the middle of the ground.

"I just want to go home!" she cried into her arms.

"Leah?" Hawke asked disbelievingly, causing the girl's head to jerk up towards the unfamiliar voice, "your father told us you were dead."

"My father? Is he safe?" The girl sounded worried, "Kelder said he would hurt my family if I didn't come with him."

"Kelder?" Varric asked.

"The man who took me."

"How did you escape? Did you kick him in the balls? Please tell me you kicked him in the balls." Varric smiled.

The young girl looked apprehensive, "He… hit me. Told me I was nothing. I begged him to stop hurting me. I didn't think he would, but out of nowhere… he pushed me away and just started… crying." Her eyes hardened, becoming determined, "Don't you see? He didn't mean to hurt me. He told me!" The group exchanged looks as the girl continued, "there are demons. They make him do these horrible things."

"I'll have to remember to use that." Varric turned to Hawke, "Remember that time I lost your dagger in Wicked Grace? A demon made me do it."

Aveline placed her face in her palms.

"But its true!" the girl cried, "How else could he do something like this?"

"She is a child, and does not understand." Fenris cut in, "Her pity is admirable, but misplaced."

Hawke turned to the girl, "Run to the entrance, you'll find your father there. We'll… deal with this."

The girl sprinted off, leaving the group in the now silent ruins.

They found the man in question slumped against a pillar in the room just ahead.

Hawke advanced on him angrily, but the man spoke first, "I knew my father would eventually send someone. I was hoping the beasts down here would get me first." He looked away, "it's what I deserve. I should be torn apart down here. Not protected by my father."

"On that we can agree." Fenris growled lowly.

"From the Magistrate's vague description, I expected someone…. Taller." Hawke cocked her head to the side, "But all I've found is a whining coward."

"He didn't tell you, did he?" Kelder stood, "The magistrate is my father. He's tried so hard to keep me, and what I've done," he paused looking down at his hands, "hidden away."

"Not hard enough, so it seems." Fenris sounded repulsed.

"Ah nug-shit. Why is Isabella always right?" Varric sighed, "No more nobles. Way too much baggage."

"I'd say the magistrate is more worried about keeping his job, than doing his job." Hawke crossed her arms.

"Father is a good man… he tried to help me. To stop me. But no one can."

"Why does it seem like everyone we meet just keeps getting crazier and crazier," Varric muttered.

"That elven girl, she had no right…. No right to be so beautiful, so perfect. The demons said she needed to be taught a lesson, like all the others."

"And we just topped the crazy charts, again."

"The circle was supposed to help me," the man became desperate, "but they lied. They said there was no demon, that I was mad."

"I'm not getting paid enough for this." Hawke sighed, running her hand through her hair, only succeeding in further disheveling it.

"The circle would not have risked freeing an abomination. If they said there was no demon, there is no demon." Fenris challenged.

"Please, you have to kill me! I will never stop! I can't stop!" The man was becoming desperate.

"He see's the truth of it. Allow me to grant his wish, if you will not." Fenris stepped from the shadows.

Hawke thought for a moment in silence.

"Some people… cannot be fixed." Aveline spoke for the first time. Hawke turned to face her, surprised.

"What happened to not taking the law into our own hands?"

"Hawke, you know I trust you, and your judgment... usually." Having said her piece, Aveline stepped back.

Fenris began to pull his longsword from his back before Hawke stopped him, placing a hand on his arm,

"Don't. Its not your job."

Fenris watched as she removed a dagger from her back, approaching the man, and holding the knife to his neck.

"Tell my father…" he looked into Hawke's eyes, "I'm sorry."

Hawke brought the blade smoothly across the man's exposed throat, slicing through cleanly and quickly. The man collapsed at her feet.

"Lets get out of here."

Fenris remained rooted in his spot. Unknowingly or not, Hawke had just reminded Fenris of something he hadn't quite grasped since escaping slavery: he was free. He had been running for three years, unable to see an end. That simple gesture and statement felt like an electric shock into reality. He was no longer a slave to the whims of a mad man, no longer a harbinger of death to those Denarius found unworthy. He was—

"Fenris!" Varric's voice called from the door, "You coming, broody?"

* * *

As they retreated from the Wounded Coast, the three companions walked a few paces behind their leader who walked thoughtfully, but briskly along the road ahead.

"She understands that she made the right choice, does she not?" Fenris asked the other two, watching Hawke ahead.

"Sure she does." Varric shrugged, "I mean, the guy was a maniac. I think our fearless leader doesn't like being reminded that her choices matter."

"Hawke is complicated, Fenris." Aveline attempted to describe her inexplicable friend; "She's a lazy, ruthless, vulgar, liar who often considers herself much funnier than she actually is…"

"Aveline, you really are nauseatingly complimentary." Varric joked.

Ignoring the dwarf, she continued, "But all she really wants is to see her friends safe and living well, maybe a lifetime tab at the Hanged man." Varric grunted in agreement, "When she makes decisions like this one," Aveline gestured to the cave disappearing behind them, "She's reminded that she holds accountability for a lot more than herself. She's a reluctant leader, but she's meant to be one. For good or ill, we'll see."

"Yeah. What she said." Varric pointed at the guard.

Eventually the two fell into an argument about Varric's nonexistent cousins, or something of that sort. Fenris had long ago stopped paying attention. Hawke was still maintaining a stride at the head of the group, so he opted to join her. However, as he approached, Fenris realized he didn't know what to say. He knew she didn't need to be told that the death was morally justified. She was a smart woman. She was simply unhappy with the designation of responsibility, and Fenris knew exactly how that weight felt. He was almost remorseful for his earlier feelings of elation; one man's freedom was another's burden.

She spoke first, "I know, I know. I made the right choice. We stand behind you." Hawke waved her hands dismissively.

"You would be a fool to think otherwise. Though I suppose you haven't quite proven yourself in that regard." Fenris schooled his features into a look of indifference at Hawke's disbelieving stare.

She looked forward, shaking her head and smiling, "True enough."

They continued a few more steps in silence.

"I just wish people would turn to Varric or Aveline…. or anyone, but me. Maker, I can't even trust myself to remember to put socks on in the morning." She looked guiltily at Fenris, "I guess I'm not supposed to feel that way, but there it is. For once, I want get drunk, screw someone in the corner of the Hanged Man, and show up late to the party."

"I suspect there's only enough room for one Isabella per city. I also suspect your lack of desire to lead is part of what makes you so successful." Fenris answered simply.

Hawke snorted cynically.

"Hawke, to feign ignorance does a disservice to your intelligence, and to everyone who follows you." That shut her up. "I have spent enough time around those who think that strength and power equate leadership to know that you are…unique."

She tilted her head at him, considering his words.

"That doesn't mean there isn't room for improvement." Fenris concluded, looking forward.

"There it is." Hawke patted his back, laughing, as the group continued towards Kirkwall.

* * *

**Thank you so much for the reviews and for following! I'm really sorry this chapter is so short! I think I mentioned before that its finals week, but if I didn't thats why this chapter feels a little lackluster. I'm sorry! As soon as next week is over, I'm going to be able to focus :) I at least wanted to put some content out there to keep the story going. **

**Dani.777- thank you for your reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

**Casmir1080- I totally agree, I really wanted to slo-mance this thing out. Unless you play a character that favors the templars, it seems natural that Fenris and Hawke would have a rocky start. I'm trying to move into their understanding of each other along gradually. I hope you keep enjoying the pace. I tried to push those two towards each other a bit this week :)**


	4. Chapter 4

_Hawke watched helplessly as Bethany's body was effortlessly lifted by the ogre and slammed into the hard ground. Her family cried out around her. Opening her mouth she tried to scream, but no sound came out. Carver stood a few steps away from his twin, desperately holding back tears that threatened to erupt any moment. Leandra's sobs wracked her small frame, as she covered her daughter's still body with her own. Hawke wanted to comfort them, she wanted to fall onto her knees and join her mother over her sister. Bethany was gone, and she had done nothing to stop it. _

"_Protect them Marion."_

_Hawke heard her father's voice. They were in the dark cool room where he had spent his final weeks; he was lying in bed and grasping her rough hands in his own frail ones._

_The image was abruptly replaced with her mother, sobbing and pushing Hawke away._

"_How could you let her go like that? You were supposed to protect us!"_

_A final shove from her mother sent Hawke stumbling backwards, and into another form. Behind her stood Flemeth. _

_The witch slowly circled Hawke, studying her quizzically. She finally reached for Hawke's face, turning it for further scrutiny._

"_I wonder…do you even know what you are?"_

_Hawke's brow furrowed in confusion, but she still couldn't find her voice._

"_I suppose not." Flemeth sighed, seeming bored. _

_The witch tightened her grip on Hawke's jaw, looking deeply into her eyes. Hawke's head seized in pain, she could physically feel something inside of her, invading her personal thoughts. With all of her will, she focused on the energy, forcing it back and expelling it from her mind. When her eyes focused again, Flemeth was smiling._

"_Very good Eluvia, you will need that strength." She tilted her head thoughtfully, "Hurtled into the chaos you fight, and the world will shape before you… is it fate or chance? I can never tell." _

_Hawke realized they were now standing on the top of Sundermount. She watched the witch from the corners of her eyes. Flemeth was staring out into the sea, the wind blowing lightly around her long hair. Her expression held a moment of openness before reverting back to its usual impassivity,_

"_We stand on the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss." She turned to face Hawke, "Watch for that moment… and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly" _

_With that, Flemeth shoved Hawke off the cliff. She watched powerlessly as the edge of the cliffs disappeared above her, while she plummeted to the rocky earth and waves below._

* * *

Hawke shot awake in her cot, drenched in sweat. Her heart beating madly and breath ragged. She stood up immediately, pacing the room in an attempt to calm down. Afraid of waking her family, she quietly slipped on her shoes and crept out the door. Once outside, she bent over and allowed her body to tremble. There was no physical trauma, but her mind felt weak and abused.

"Andraste's tits! No more cheese before bed." She laughed to herself, attempting to trick some levity into her thoughts. Her heart had finally slowed, and her mind calmed, but there was a lingering weight in her soul. Something was scratching at the back of mind, asking to be let in… or out.

* * *

The mage wondered around Lowtown until the dark sky gave way to a grey morning. Knowing only one of her companions would be awake at this hour, Hawke headed to Aveline.

She wasn't planning on sharing her dream with anyone. It had been unsettling, but it was just a dream nonetheless. There was also the issue that she wouldn't even know where to begin. After years of stress and turmoil was she finally losing her mind? Maker, she really was going to stop eating cheese before bed.

The city was still sleeping as Hawke made her way to Hightown. Worn stone steps were slick with morning dew and the dreary sky promised future rain. The quite, fresh air had loosened her limbs and eased the insistent aching of her head. By the time she rounded the corner into the chantry courtyard, she had picked up a steady trot, eyes fixed on the sky. So, it came as quite a surprise when she slammed into what felt like a wall at the top of the stairwell. Hawke staggered back, rushing to correct her footing, but narrowly missed, and began to fall backwards down the steps. At the last moment, someone grabbed her arm, pulling her back into the original offending force. Hawke followed the dark and bronzed hand grasping her own, up an intricately patterned arm, and onto the face of Fenris.

"I was unaware you slunk from your hovel this early in the day."

"I was…" she could feel the humming beneath his armor, "hoping I would think of something by the time I started that sentence."

He released her and stepped back.

"What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep." Hawke shrugged, "Why are _you_ strolling around the city at this hour? Someone might mistake you for a common criminal."

"Pot calling the kettle black?" he raised his eyebrows, "I find that I prefer the city when everyone in it is asleep."

"Can't say I don't agree with that."

They stood in front of each other in silence, the cool morning breeze blowing lightly between them. Hawke studied Fenris, his deep green eyes, and elaborate markings had transformed from tempestuous distrust to a familiar reliability over the past couple of months. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to share her nightmare with the elf. Deciding his serious demeanor and pragmatism might be the right salve to her outlandish imagination.

"I—" she had only just started when they heard a frantic voice, muffled behind empty merchant carts, on the opposite end of the courtyard.

"Have you seen him?" A woman's hushed voice pleaded, soaked in worry.

"Macha, let it go. We cannot speak of it. Even meeting you here is a risk." Another woman spoke curtly.

"To the Void with that. Keran and the others are missing!" A man countered.

Fenris and Hawke looked at each other and silently moved nearer to the hidden group.

"I wasn't even certain Keran was missing!" Macha was becoming increasingly frantic, "How many others are gone?"

"The first one disappeared weeks ago. There's been at least half a dozen."

Hawke and Fenris exchanged confused looks, and continued eavesdropping.

"Wilmond and Keran were the most recent."

"Why keep silent? We need to find my brother!" The woman sounded on the edge of tears.

"You obviously are not a Templar, Macha. A knight-lieutenant gives you an order and you obey. Without question." The other woman spoke.

"They told us not to breathe a word about Keran and the others." The man apologized.

"They must have their reasons." The female Templar was grasping for rectitude.

Hawke had heard enough. Fenris saw her begin to move and reached for her, urging her to wait, but failed.

"And I'm sure that'll be a great comfort if you go missing next." Hawke stepped out from behind the cart, Fenris following quickly behind.

"Maker!" Both warriors unsheathed their blades in defense.

"Templars and trouble. Is anything ever new in this city?" Hawke clicked her tongue, and placed her hand on her hip, "Put your toys down. I am here to help… well, actually I'm here because you're all conspicuously yelling in the court—"

"Hawke." Fenris interjected, attempting to focus her.

"Right. I'm here to help."

Macha stepped toward Hawke, "Please messare, you must help me. There have been dark rumors about the Templars and Knight-Commander Meredith, and now my brother is gone."

"Tell me about Meredith." Hawke narrowed her eyes.

"Oh she has many admirers." Bitterness entered the woman's voice; "They laud the service she does in keeping the mages in check."

Hawke snorted, earning a frown from Fenris and the other Templars.

Macha continued, "But others say she is terribly fierce and utterly without pity. That she sees demons everywhere."

"Perhaps she only sees the truth?" Fenris proposed.

"The truth?" Hawke looked at Fenris incredulously.

Choosing to ignore the elf for the time being, Hawke turned back to Macha, "What have you heard about the Templars?"

"People harboring escaped mages just disappear. Templars interrogate and threaten passers-by." She began speaking faster, "My friend has a cousin who's a mage. She says he was made Tranquil against his will. You here more with every passing day."

"That is ridiculous!" the woman Templar jabbed a finger at Macha, "The Templars are keeping order and protecting the likes of you."

Hawke disregarded the outburst, "Why do you think something's happened to your brother?"

"Keran would write me every day. Then suddenly, no more letters." Her confidence grew, "I tried to see him, but Knight-Commander Meredith threw me out, and they won't tell me anything!" she pointed to the Templars she had been meeting originally.

The man shuffled nervously under her gaze, "It is foolish to even whisper such things…" he hesitated, "But I hear that Knight-Commander Meredith has some new initiation you have to go through. If you're not strong enough, or fervent enough in belief, you don't make it out alive."

"What else do you know?" Hawke asked.

"You hear about some… questionable things that the Order must do these days. The knight-commander only wants Templars that can do what must be done."

"What must be done? It sounds more like she's looking for puppets to exploit her power." Hawke responded.

"You honestly believe that?" Fenris folded his arms, unconvinced.

"Maker, she's killing recruits that question her orders, isn't she?" the man became distraught, "that's why they keep disappearing."

"Wilmod came back." The female Templar insisted. The others turned to her, obviously surprised by the new information, "He did. I saw him this morning."

Hawke turned to the woman, "Do you know where I could find him?"

"He told me he was going outside Kirkwall. 'Clear his head,' he said."

"Alright. I guess we have some work to do." She looked over the Templars, "You keep doing… whatever it is you do."

She turned from the group, walking away. Fenris followed closely behind.

"Was that really necessary?" Fenris caught up with her.

"What?"

"Baiting the Templars. Are you certain it is wise to make yourself known to them?"

"Oh," she waved him off, "no one is going to remember me. Don't you worry your pretty head."

Fenris seemed unconvinced, "On the contrary, you seem to guarantee that everyone will remember you."

They continued on in silence until he spoke again, "You view the circle as a prison, and the Templars as jailers."

"Let's see: being locked up, monitored every moment of my day, and not allowed to leave? Sounds strikingly prison-like to me." She knew this conversation wouldn't go anywhere pleasant, but her curiosity got the better of her, "What is the Circle like in Tevinter?"

"It was once as it is here. The Chantry watched the magisters closely for any sign of corruption or weakness. Then it changed. The magisters were permitted to watch over their own, and Templars kept only to enforce the law." His expression turned resolute, "What happened next was inevitable. The magisters rule again, as powerful as they ever were."

"Inevitable? Do you truly view mages as so weak and incapable?" the earlier feelings of warmth towards the elf were quickly fading, "You talk about the magisters as if they are all evil." Hawke couldn't help but feel offended by his conclusion.

"Blood magic is everywhere in Tevinter. From the lowliest apprentice up to the Archon himself."

"And you've seen this for yourself?"

"Denarius spoke of it often. They say it's forbidden. Behind the smiles and closed doors, however, it's a different matter. To be a magister in Tevinter is to be glorious. To be a powerful magister in Tevinter… that is worth any price." Fenris examined his markings.

"You're saying you think the same thing would happen here?" she crossed her arms.

"If the mages were permitted to be their own watchers? Of course." Fenris answered.

"I watch myself, Fenris. As do Merrill and Anders. Would you see us all locked up?"

"Do not throw yourself in with the abomination and the blood mage. You know you are stronger, but that doesn't mean temptation is not still a possibility. It is too easy for a mage to resort to blood magic if they feel the need is great enough."

"As easy as it is to resort to a sword?" Hawke's irritation was growing by the second, "Maker Fenris, you can stick your arm through people! Should you not be trusted with your freedom?"

He appeared to be losing his patience as well, "My powers cannot be controlled by a demon. A mage can desire power, justice, revenge, protection… any cause will do, and then they are lost."

"You speak of me as if I am a third class citizen or a child, unworthy of autonomy. Your answer is to lock me up?"

"Do not be dramatic, all I am saying is that the Imperium offers no answer. All that Andraste did long ago to end the tyranny of magic had been undone."

Hawke threw up her arms, "Eliminated tyranny only to replace it with a new one!"

"Considering all that magic has done to my homeland and my race I weep for your predicament." Fenris spit bitterly, "Power corrupts, as the abomination said, and mages have enough power already."

She was practically fuming, "Treating every mage like a criminal is not the answer."

"Not every mage deserves the benefit of the doubt."

They were face-to-face, almost touching; Hawke's sharp blue eyes piercing Fenris's deep green. An aggressive air had replaced the comforting glow from earlier, and only their exasperated breath broke the heavy silence.

Hawke sighed, steadying her breath, "Your hatred blinds you Fenris."

"One might say the same of you." He countered.

The gentle bustle of early morning could just be heard in the distance, as the city rose from its slumber. Neither Hawke nor Fenris moved for minutes, maintaining their icy glares. The elf finally sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair. Visibly deflating as the desire to argue dulled with each passing moment.

"I'm not an animal to be caged out of fear." Hawke appeared to be losing steam as well, but she had yet to relax her stance.

"Hawke, I pity the man that attempts to cage you."

There was a moment of silence before Hawke backed down, turning away to conceal the small smirk that was threatening to show on her face. She wasn't in the mood to give him satisfaction.

"Let's go asshole. We need some reinforcements."

* * *

Armed with rumors of secret initiations and Meredith's insanity, Hawke led Fenris, Isabela, and Varric to the Wounded Coast in search of Wilmond. Several demons and a thickened plot later, they found themselves standing outside the Blooming Rose.

"When's the last time we were all here together?" Isabella mockingly sighed, throwing her arms over Varric and Hawke.

"That would be my book release last month." Varric answered eagerly, "the proudest night of my life."

"Now, would that be because Hawke started a brawl in your honor or because she ended the fight atop an Antivan Crow?"

"How could I ever choose?"

Hawke smiled nostalgically, "Now that was a good fight."

"He traveled with the hero of Ferelden, you know?" Isabella said.

"I did not." Hawke grinned mischievously, "We didn't do much talking."

Fenris's eyes jerked toward the mage involuntarily.

"Hawke, you're the only one that thinks that implies fighting." Varric laughed.

"Well maybe everyone else should get their mind out of the gutter."

"I rather like where my mind is, thank you very much." Isabela replied, "Besides, you only did yourself a disservice. Zevran is very... gifted."

"Just because I didn't order a meal doesn't mean I didn't sample, Isabela." Hawke held out a low-five to Varric who slapped her open palm laughing.

"Hawke, you beautiful, dirty, minx. Why won't you be mine?" The pirate stroked the mage's face theatrically.

"Can we please move on?" Fenris sighed from the back of the group.

"Oh, don't worry broody, you'll get your chance. Hawke seems to favor elves anyway." Varric joked to the quickly souring companion.

"That's restricted to elves that _haven't_ previously tried to kill me." Hawke poked the dwarf, "Details, Varric, details."

Fenris groaned in irritation. Hawke smiled, satisfied that she had annoyed him enough,

"Alright, alright," she calmed the rambunctious group, "Varric you're with me. Fenris, Isabela, see what you can find in their private books."

Nodding their agreement, they entered the establishment and went their separate ways.

* * *

"Questions are boring," Idunna sat on the bed, stroking it invitingly, "Why don't we have some real fun?"

"Hawke go easy on this… lovely creature." Varric's voice was distant.

Hawke turned to the dwarf with confusion, "Varric, what's your problem?"

Worried crept up the back of her neck when she saw a heavy glaze setting over his eyes.

Hawke felt a prickle of magic in the air she hadn't noticed before, "Listen, I'm not here for the show. I'm just looking for some answers."

"Now, now. So serious. Introductions and straight to business." The brothel worker stood, pouting dramatically, "First, I want you to tell me: Who told you, about little old me?"

"I—" Hawke moved forward, but immediately lost motivation. She struggled to respond, but she had lost all control over her body. It felt like she was slowly sinking into quicksand, and before she could stop herself, her voice revealed Viveka as their informant.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Idunna cooed, approaching Hawke and caressing her jaw, "Now, I want you to take your blade," Hawke drew her dagger, "and bring it across your neck."

Holding her sharp dagger to her throat, Hawke could distantly see what was happening, but she felt disconnected. It was as though she was standing hundreds of yards away, watching the events take place. Her eyes pleaded to Varric, but he appeared just as immobile as she was. Hawke was going to slit her own throat, and there was no one to help her.

* * *

Fenris thumbed through a pile of papers, distracted. The Blooming Rose was not where he would ideally be spending his afternoon, and the argument with Hawke earlier was still fresh in his mind. Hawke could be insufferable when she wanted to be. Recklessly idealistic for a cause she only partially understood.

_One might say the same of you_

He imagined Hawke parroting his earlier words back to him.

Isabela sighed dramatically from across the room, where she was half halfheartedly rummaging through a desk. "I'm bored!" She slammed a drawer shut, and plopped herself unceremoniously onto the table, eyeing Fenris across the room.

"I can think of one or two things we could do to pass the time." She raised her eyebrows at him suggestively.

"Surely you could find someone else to satisfy your urges." Fenris deadpanned, continuing his search.

"Oh, you're no fun." She swung her legs off the table, "I bet Hawke and Varric are enjoying _Idunna_." Isabela walked over to Fenris, leaning against the wall in front of him.

"Now that is something I would pay to see: Hawke and the exotic wonder, sandwiched around Varric's glorious chest hair."

Fenris wrinkled his nose, snorting in disgust, and tried his best to ignore the baiting pirate.

Isabela narrowed her eyes, and titled her head impishly at the elf, "Though perhaps some of us would prefer to see _themselves_ in the middle of that party."

Fenris was caught off-guard by her assertion. His brow furrowed as his mind immediately flashed to the image of Hawke pulled against him earlier that morning. Before the chaos of the day, there had been a moment of calm, where nothing but the quiet hum of his markings interrupted the peace. A moment of harmony before their inevitable discord.

The entire thought lasted for less than a second before he shook it from his mind, but Isabela caught the expression.

A wide grin spread across her face, "I'm speaking about myself of course."

"You are intolerable." Fenris grumbled, walking away from the pirate to another pile of papers.

He berated himself for taking Isabela's bait. Hawke had unexpectedly become a trusted ally in the past months, a security he had never experienced. Even if her opinions were naïve, she was not. Her mere presence increased his odds for survival, and their wildly differing views provided further proof that he was no longer bound to the will of another. It was only natural that he saw her as a comfort, he rationalized.

He quickly stifled a surprising pang of irritation as he remembered Zevran, and immediately chastised himself. Hawke's personal life was not up for Fenris' scrutiny. If he had learned anything from following her thus far, it was that she had no use for the ridicule or judgment of others. She had an indomitable spirit that inspired both fear and respect. She had…. Been absent for much longer than necessary to interview a simple brothel worker.

He ran from the room.

"Fenris!" Isabela called, "I was only joking!" She laughed until slowly coming to the same conclusion the elf had moments before, and sprinted from the room after him.

* * *

There was a loud crash as Fenris burst into the room with Isabela closely behind.

Relief washed over Hawke at the sight of her friends.

Their clamorous introduction had broken Idunna's focus, as she turned her gaze away from Hawke and towards the trespassers. Hawke felt the magical restraints slithering away from her body, the mental fog receding rapidly alongside them.

Without further consideration, she twirled the dagger away from her throat, and shoved it deeply into the blood mage's stomach. Idunna let out a gurgling scream as she collapsed to the floor. Hawke followed, crouching lowly over the woman, and pushed the dagger deeper into her stomach.

"You will tell me everything I want to know, or Maker strike me down, I will remove this knife and let you bleed out onto the floor." Hawke spoke venomously.

Idunna laughed bitterly, spitting blood onto the mage standing over her. Undeterred, Hawke continued to pin the writhing woman into the floor.

_I must warn Tarohne._ Hawke heard Idunna's panicked voice in her head.

The woman's eyes lurched to Hawke's, their gazes appearing equally surprised.

"I sense no blood magic." Her eyes narrowed in fear, "What are you?"

The woman began to violently thrash beneath Hawke, "Get out of my head! Get out of my thou—"

The crazed mage's tirade was cut short as an arrow from Bianca embedded itself deeply into her chest. Hawke ripped her blade from the limp mage's body, her mind racing.

"Crazy bitch." Isabela exhaled in shock.

"Hawke, I'm—" Varric started, finally finding his voice.

She held up her hand to stop him, "Varric, its fine. Find me something that explains what's going on here." Turning away she tried to settle her rapidly beating heart, and consider the turn of events.

How had she heard Idunna? Had she imagined it? It had to have been a trick from the woman's blood magic, she decided. Hawke's head began to throb painfully, as it had earlier that morning. Shelving the worry, she joined the search for answers.

Looking up from a small chest near the bed, she caught Fenris' eyes. Their earlier disagreement felt miles away. Even in his flawed opinions, Fenris was trustworthy. As soon as she had seen him burst through the door, she had known her life was saved.

Hawke focused on a spot just below his eyes, her emotions warring between embarrassment and gratitude, and her tongue heavy with both. "Thank you." She managed.

He bowed his head slightly in response, and they continued ransacking the room in silence.

The throbbing of Hawke's head was increasing in intensity. Her mind was everywhere at once, unable to focus. Luckily, Varric provided a distraction, announcing that he found a letter.

"It looks like she's been sending Templars to someone named Tarohne."

Hawke froze at the familiar name, but forced a smile, "I say we head to the Undercity."

* * *

They stopped to grab Anders on the way to the hideout. Fenris eyed the mage warily, but soon forgot about the abomination, instead distressing over his own thoughts of the day.

_You almost let Hawke die._

The image of Hawke standing in that room with a knife to her throat played over and over in his mind. The sight of her caught so vulnerable had immobilized him in fear. Their loyal, fierce, comically ill-timed leader had been seconds from her death.

_All of our deaths._

There would be no group without Hawke, there would be no safety, no ally against Denarius. The first true friend that Fenris could remember having, had been moments from death, and he had failed to act.

She had risked her life for each of them, and she would foolishly do it again. Yet they had been unable to return the favor. The distraction they had provided had been dumb luck. Fenris's stomach knotted, considering the potential outcome had they been a moment later.

He couldn't help but notice the change in her demeanor since her encounter with Idunna. She was clearly shaken, that was obvious even now as she strained a laugh and smile for the abomination, but there was something more.

Watching Hawke ahead, Fenris made a promise to himself. A promise to help her the way she had safeguarded them, to try to learn how to be... better. As Anders's hand moved casually to Hawke's back, Fenris had to subdue a flare in his markings. That protection would start with the abomination. Like Merrill, the fool was playing with forces he did not understand. And also like Merrill, they would all pay the price for it one day. Hawke's own strength of will blinded her to the reality of those around her, and Fenris would not allow her misguided sentiments to place her in the cross fire.

* * *

"Maker, it looks like he's trying to pass a nug." Isabella laughed to Varric.

They had both been watching Fenris's face contort as he looked on to their fearless leader.

"It's like he's feeling every emotion he's ever had, all at once."

"Do you think he even knows what he's feeling?" Isabella ask skeptically.

"Not a chance in the Void," Varric snorted.

* * *

**As always, thank you guys so much for continuing to read my story! I am finally diverging a bit from the canon, and slowly mixing in some of my AU plot. I hope everyone enjoys a little change and mystery J Again: Thank you, thank you, thank you. Please review! I would love to hear from people and I am always open to suggestions.**

**Dani.777- Your review made me laugh because I had been planning on introducing the Anders vs Fenris rivalry in this chapter! Very serendipitous, I hope you approve. **


	5. Chapter 5

As much as Hawke attempted to feign indifference, she really did enjoy watching her companions help the underdogs of the city. Unfortunately, that secret appreciation is exactly how she found herself working at Anders's clinic late into the night.

Traipsing about with Hawke had left Anders little time to focus on his patients, so she had volunteered to help. It ended up becoming a symbiotic relationship, giving her ample practice on her healing abilities, while providing Anders with much needed assistance. Therefore, the one time volunteering stint had become somewhat of a regular occurrence. This evening had been a particularly slow one, and she and Ander's had spent most of the time playing Diamondback. Hawke threw down her losing cards,

"Damn it! Why am I so bad at this?"

"Someone's not accustomed to losing." Anders provoked.

"Oh don't get all high and mighty. We all see through your sexy and tortured act."

Anders laughed, "Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often."

"Nug-shit, you know what I'm talking about! I've seen you flirt at the Hanged Man. _Shameless_ is the only word that comes to mind."

Anders laughed, shuffling the cards, and dealing out a new hand. They studied their cards in silence until he cleared his throat, "Hawke, I… really appreciate all you've done for me. Despite your feelings towards Justice, you've never hesitated to help."

"I do believe someone was withholding maps, if I'm not mistaken." She grinned.

"Then perhaps I should take them back, lest you stop coming around."

"Oh you don't need to worry about that. Now that you've got my pity, you're stuck with me." General Meow hopped into her lap, curling up, "and the kitten definitely doesn't hurt your position."

"Traitor." Anders accused the feline.

Hawke watched Anders. He was a handsome man, and a skilled mage. There had been a point in time when she even considered pursuing him further. However, he had made it quite clear that no future lie there. After her bruised ego had healed, Hawke realized he'd been right to dissuade her advances. Anders wasn't just Anders anymore. Justice came with him, and while Hawke respected the mage, she had numerous misgivings with the warped spirit. However, they still had much in common, and Hawke valued the friendship that had blossomed from their introduction.

Hawke's wandering mind finally returned to the game, just in time to lose another hand. Before indebting herself further, she elected to leave.

"Maker, it's late." She stretched, "I'm going to head out."

Anders stood, walking her to the door, General Meow trotting closely behind. Anders surprised her by pulling her into a tight hug, and she wrapped her arms around his torso in return. Hawke closed her eyes and couldn't help but remember being pressed against Fenris's chest. She abruptly stepped back from Anders, shaking the image from her mind. He looked down at her confused, cocking his eyebrow.

"Didn't want you to realize how bad I smell." She joked.

"I have very bad news for your Hawke, everyone knows how terrible you smell."

She pushed his shoulder, turning to walk away,

"Try not to die on your way home, dear." Anders called after her.

Hawke responded with a crude gesture over her shoulder and continued walking, the sound of Anders's laughing fading into the distance.

Once Hawke has turned the corner she laughed to herself, a little embarrassed.

_Daydreaming about ornery elves now, are we?_

She shook her head, mocking herself internally as she strolled through Darktown. She wouldn't lie, the elf was attractive, but Maker he knew how to infuriated her. As Hawke rounded the stairs, she saw her brother, pacing an alley and mumbling in frustration.

She approached, waving him from his thoughts, "Carver, what are you doing?"

"Believe it or not, dear sister, not everything is your business." Carver stopped.

"Is this like when I ask you what you want for dinner, and you say you don't care, but then—."

"Oh, stow it." He cut her off.

"Andraste's tits Carver. You could out-brood Fenris, and that is not a compliment." She started to walk away.

"Aveline rejected me from the guards. Again." He sighed.

"Carver, you don't want to be a guard. That's boring!"

"No. What I don't want to be is forever known as 'Hawke's little brother,'" he bit back sharply.

Hawke crossed her arms, "Is it heavy? That chip you keep on your shoulder?"

"She would've hired you." He accused her bitterly.

"Are you insane? Aveline doesn't trust me farther than she can throw me."

"Humble too? Oh the virtues never end!" Carver spit sarcastically, "everyone we know would follow you into the Void, and you know it."

"Because we respect each other. You could earn that too if you shelved your attitude for a day." Hawke jabbed at his chest.

He swatted her hand away, "You know what I mean. People don't just follow you, they believe in you. It's always been that way."

They stood in front of each other in silence.

"There's no real place for me here." He said quietly.

Hawke reached her hand to his shoulder and pulled him into a hug.

"I need you here, Carver." He relaxed a little, "I also think there's another mage that might notice if you were gone."

She felt him smile a little, "Does Anders speak of me often?" he joked.

They laughed, and turned to walk towards their small home, together.

* * *

The sun sat high in the sky as Fenris, Varric, and Isabella headed towards Gamlen's hovel. As they came upon the house, Fenris stopped to examine the decaying foundation and similar crumbling conditions of the neighboring homes.

"This is where Hawke lives?" Fenris asked.

"We can't all squat in Hightown, Broody. At least, not without tipping," Varric called back as he hopped up the steps.

"What were you expecting?" Isabella asked cleaning her nails with a small knife she kept in her boot.

Fenris hadn't really known what he was expecting; he realized that he had never considered it. They followed Varric up the steps, only to find that the dwarf had come to a dead stop at the top of the stairs.

"What are you—" Isabella began before Varric silenced her with a hand,

They all heard shouting within the house,

"Why can't you make something respectable of yourself Hawke? Maker, running about at all hours of the night with those… friends. What would your father think?" an older woman's voice rang out clearly from behind the thin walls.

The three companions remained frozen in place.

"I'm sure you'll tell m-" Hawke's exhausted voice broke through the yelling.

"You sarcastic little shit. You lost Bethany, and now you're going to make me lose Carver. I won't allow it!" The woman burst into tears, "You were supposed to protect us Marion, to help take care of us. But you're selfish, and you'll leave us all to rot in poverty while you drink your life away at that horrific pub! You're father would be so disappointed in you." The rest of the woman's words were lost in uncontrollable sobbing.

After an extended silence, the front door began to open; Varric and Isabella scampered down the steps, abandoning Fenris at the top of the stairs. His confused gaze followed the retreating friends. By the time he realized what was happening, Hawke was standing in front of him; her expression entirely unreadable. She walked passed him only to find Isabella and Varric, awkwardly alternating between looking at the sky and toeing the ground with their boots.

"Don't we have something we should be doing?" Hawke asked, sharply.

"I think we were, uh," Varric cleared his throat, "planning on cleaning the slaver's out of the Amell mansion."

"Right," Hawke closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, "We'll need to get Carver."

They set off toward Merrill's house in the alienage, Carver's most likely location. Isabella laced her arm through Hawke's and walked ahead; assigning outlandish fetishes to individuals they passed.

"Who is Bethany?" Fenris asked Varric, keeping his eyes trained on the women ahead.

"What?" Varric looked at Fenris with confusion, "Maker elf, do you ever pay attention? Bethany was Carver's twin. She died when they were trying to leave Lothering. She was a mage too, like their father." Varric paused, "I never met them, but I get the feeling that we're all poorer for their loss."

"What's in the Amell mansion?"

"That's Hawkes ancestral home. Her mother's parents were nobles in Kirkwall, but she ran away with Hawke's father."

The many puzzle pieces that created Marion Hawke were beginning to fall into place for Fenris.

"What happened to the mansion?"

"Andraste's flaming ass Fenris, I thought you were supposed to be the quiet one?" Varric moaned before continuing, "Gamlen gambled all of their money away, and eventually lost the home to a band of slavers. So, we're going to do some house cleaning, maybe see if we can find something that will help Hawke's family reclaim the place."

"Hmm." Fenris continued watching the two women ahead of them.

"—I'm not even making that up," Isabella laughed, pointing out the tailor in the bazaar, "He actually brought his own face paint and a tail."

* * *

The clearing of the mansion went smoothly; Hawke fought harder than usual, eager for the excuse to throw herself into conflict and clear her mind. Unfortunately, all temporary distractions must come to an end, and soon she and Carver were returning to her mother with their grandparent's will. Hawke paused in front of the door to their uncle's home.

"What are you doing?" Carver asked, "Lets tell mother that Gamlen is the lying pile of crap from the Void we thought he was."

"I actually just remembered something I need to do." Hawke made the quickest, and subsequently poorest alibi she could think of, "Would you mind taking care of it?"

"What are you going on about? Come on." Carver reached for the door.

"No, I really need to go. I'll be back later." Hawke turned and walked away quickly, turning back to wave at her confused and irritated brother.

"_Oh, I'm so important. Carver would you mind taking care of the boring stuff. Don't worry about me, I'm just busy being mysterious and looking for yet another way to cast my ever-increasing shadow over your._" Carver grumbled to himself, badly attempting to impersonate Hawke as he pushed open the door to their home.

Hawke wasn't entirely sure where she was going; she just knew she needed to keep moving. Once outside of the city walls, she broke into a sprint and didn't stop until she was sweating and panting, halfway up a mountain on the Wounded Coast. She knew her mother was just lashing out; Leandra had been full of sorrow and discontent since the death of Hawke's father. But she also knew her mother was right. Her father would be disappointed in her, Bethany's loss had been her fault, and she knew that if she continued down her chosen path, she was lose Carver too, one way or another. Hawke knew a lot of things, what she didn't know was how to change them.

She thought of Fenris's blank face outside her door, and Isabella and Varric's embarrassed shuffling outside. How could they trust someone to hold them together when she was failing so spectacularly with her own family? And Maker she didn't even want to get into her nightmares. She spent five nights a week, minimum, waking up to cold sweats and headaches. Hawke was fraying at the seams, and she needed something to hold her together.

Hawke turned down a dirt path to a small, hidden beach at the base of a cliff. Settling herself in the sand, she watched the setting sun transform the sky into magnificent shades of red and orange. Her heart would always long for the familiar open fields of Lothering, but her old home offered nothing like the sea.

She supposed something as boundless as the sea or the sky brought feelings of insignificance to some, but irrelevance was exactly what she was looking for. Since the birth of her siblings and the discovery of her magic, the world had felt like a heavy weight on her shoulders. She had hoped for a simple life of anonymity in Kirkwall, but the constant struggle for survival and chaotic nature of the city had already proven the impossibility of that dream.

Only through the colossal expanse of the sky and sea could she be reminded that Marion Hawke was nothing more than an unimportant speck, floating aimlessly in the midst of something so much larger.

Lost in contemplation, she hadn't noticed that the sky had darkened since her arrival. Standing, Hawke dusted the sand from her clothes and turned back toward Kirkwall.

* * *

Fenris hadn't intended to follow Hawke; he had actually been heading to the Hanged Man when he had seen her brusquely leaving the city alone. Initially, he had intended to apologize for eavesdropping that afternoon, but as she wandered on, it transformed into mild curiosity. He questioned briefly if she had taken her mother's words to heart.

_Surely not_?

She played the part of a noncommittal comedian, but the inner pride, drive, and loyalty she held for those around her had yet to be matched by anyone Fenris knew.

He considered her status as an apostate, and was greatly surprised by how little that was beginning to bother him.

_Have my opinions towards mages changed that drastically since being in Kirkwall?_

He was reminded of the Abomination and the frequent arguments he found with Hawke.

_No, definitely not. _

Fenris was torn from his thoughts when Hawke suddenly burst into a sprint ahead of him. Following as quietly as he could, Fenris began to run.

"Venhedis!" Fenris panted heavily, bent over his knees. After almost an hour of continuous sprinting, he had lost Hawke, unable to keep up with her relentless pace.

Once he caught his breath, he started back up again, this time walking.

Twenty minutes later, he gave up. Before deciding to head back, he came upon a small path that led down to the water, and chose to enjoy the ocean before returning to the relentless bustle of Kirkwall.

The elf was brought to a sudden stop when he came upon Hawke sitting in the sand.

Knees pulled up and arms stretched out behind her, she rested back on her hands, watching the water gently lap at her bare feet. Her dark hair, usually pulled back in a loose ponytail, had been let free, lying in soft waves around her shoulders. Her pale skin was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, softening her sharp features with a look of tranquility Fenris had never seen her wear before. A small smile slowly spread across her face and she stared into the emptiness ahead.

Fenris' heart skipped a beat, he thought back to the conversation they had held in his mansion:

"_Tell me, what do you do when you stop running?" he had asked her._

_"You survive, and move on. What else do you want?"_

_"Something different. So should you."_

At the time he hadn't understood why her response had triggered such frustration, but now he knew. It was because she deserved more. Looking at her now, even compared against the gaping ocean, he could truly see how large a role she played in the world around them. If she couldn't find something different, something more, what was the hope for any of them?

Fenris decided to leave her in her hard-earned peace, disappearing the way he had come. He had only made it halfway back down the coast when he heard the careful steps of someone not far behind him; he reached for his weapon, grasping the hilt when he heard Hawke's confused voice,

"Fenris?"

"_Kaffas." _He whispered to himself before releasing his grip on his sword and turning to address the mage. "Hawke."

She was still a few yards away, but even in the rapidly darkening sky, he recognized her familiar form.

"What are you doing out here?" She continued to move towards him.

"I might ask you the same question." He thanked the darkness for helping to conceal the guilty expression he undoubtedly wore.

"Fine, keep your secrets elf." She laughed, finally coming to a stop in front of him.

Fenris could see a noticeable difference in her posture from earlier that day. There was still a small crease between her brows that had yet to disappear, but she appeared lighter than before.

"I'm headed to the Hanged Man, care to join me?" Her head tilted as she posed the question.

"After you," he gestured forward.

Passing him, she reached out and patted his arm causing Fenris's markings to light up beneath her touch.

She retracted her hand, "Does it hurt when that happens?"

"At times."

Hawke looked at him apologetically.

"It doesn't bother me." _When you do it_, he realized. "They're just reacting to your mana. It's not always uncomfortable, sometimes it's simply a… vibrating."

She raised an eyebrow, "Reacting to my mana? Andraste's ass Fenris, you really don't like mages." She smiled.

"No, its…" He realized he had never explained them to her, "the markings, they're lyrium. They're why I'm able to—"

"Phase through people's chests?" She finished, half joking, half shocked, "How did… why did…?"

"I didn't. If you're wondering why I asked for them." She nodded silently in response; "Denarius burned these markings into my skin, transforming me into his weapon. The pain was… unbearable." His eyes refocused on hers, she was biting her lip, clearly at a loss for words. Fenris hadn't intended to bring concern to her recently lifted spirit.

"But nothing yet has compared to the pain of watching you lose so much coin to Varric and Isabella." Her eyes went wide, surprised by the joke, before she began laughing.

"Come on." She waved him forward, and they continued their walk back to the city.

* * *

Varric cleared his throat, standing at the front of the table, "My good people!"

The loud humming of the room seemed to increase. Merrill, and Hawke were howling in laughter at a story Isabella and Anders were telling; while Aveline, Carver, and Fenris argued drunkenly over maker-knows-what at the opposite end of the room.

Varric moved to stand on the table, "Everyone shut-up, the dwarf is speaking!" The room's noise finally began to dim as the party turned to look at Varric.

Fenris caught Hawke's eye from across the room, raising his brows in question, Hawke responded with a shrug and listened to Varric's announcement.

"As you all know, we have been saving for the expedition for over a year now, and I am pleased to announce…" he paused for dramatic flourish, "That with the help of Hawke's pathetic attempts at Wicked Grace, we finally have enough coin saved!"

A loud cheer rang out from the drunk and happy crowd.

"Ready your weapons, and steel your hearts. Deep Roads: here we come!" Varric thrust his arm into the air triumphantly. Everyone else followed suit, sloshing ale all over the room. Then, as quickly as it came, the group's focus dispersed again, returning to their original chaotic noise.

Mercifully, no one had brought up the incident at Hawke's home earlier that day, and Carver, ignorant to the event, had grudgingly confirmed that returning the will to their mother had gone smoothly.

Hawke's visit to the Wounded Coast had been exactly what she had needed: a quick, indispensable reminder of her place in the Universe. It was hard to feel overwhelmed by your own life in the face of the world's magnitude. She smiled to herself. To top it all off, they had finally saved enough coin for the Deep Roads.

Hawke released a contented sigh. Leaning back, she observed the motley crew she had come to rely on: Varric, her silver-tongued dwarf and unwavering best friend sat at the head of the table, and to his left was the fiercely loyal and honorable Aveline. Across from the guard sat charming Anders, and on the floor near Anders's chair was naive, and well-meaning Merrill. Of course, next to the Dalish elf was Carver, her hardheaded dope of a brother, while clever and ruthless Isabella was taking up two chairs to herself. Finally, her gaze settled upon Fenris, the enduring and unmovable elf.

Varric followed Hawke's gaze to where it rested. He caught her attention, an arrogant smile extending across his features as he wagged his eyebrows at her. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she did her best to glare at the dwarf, but it was too little too late.

"I'm going to take Merrill home." Carver whispered into Hawke's ear causing her to jump. She hadn't realized he'd moved over to her side. Hawke looked behind her at Merrill, who had clearly been encouraged by Isabella into one too many ales. The two women were laughing uncontrollably, stumbling over each other as they reached for General Meow, who calmly sat just out of reach.

"See you later," Hawke touched his arm, "I might be out late tonight."

Carver had lived long enough with Leandra and Hawke to know what that really signified,

"See you tomorrow." He turned towards Merrill, suggesting their departure.

"Oh you don't need to do **[hick] **that," Merrill struggled to speak between hiccups, "Varric **[hick]** gave me a ball of twine."

Carver just looked confused, and Varric began laughing,

"Aw, let junior help you, Daisy. Besides, I have a hot date with Bianca tonight, so everyone should go ruin their own homes."

"To Fenris's mansion!" Isabella grabbed the half empty bottle of whiskey and sauntered out the door, arm-in-arm with Aveline and Anders. General Meow followed at a respectable distance, as if embarrassed by the boisterous group.

Hawke looked over at the beaten Fenris, who simply groaned and walked out the door behind them. She was about to follow the group when Varric cleared his throat behind her,

"Have fun."

"Shove it up your ass Varric." Hawke left the room, escaping Varric's laughter.

* * *

Hawke jogged out the front of the Hanged Man, and right into Fenris.

"OOF" she fell flat onto her back, "Maker, Fenris. Has anyone told you you're like a brick wall?"

Fenris looked down, entertained, "Has anyone told you you're drunk?"

"Not tonight." She smiled, "Where is everyone else?"

"Carver took the bloodmage home," he pointed towards the alienage, "and everyone else went ahead because apparently my desire for privacy is inconsequential." He offered her his hand.

"You do leave an 'open-door policy' sort of impression." Hawke gripped his arm. Trying to ignore the way his burning markings ignited a flame in her stomach, she pulled herself to stand. Maker, she was drunk.

"I thought I would wait, in case you fell into a sewage ditch, never to be heard from again."

"My hero."

"Never let it be said I didn't care." They began to walk towards Hightown.

Isabella's loud voice could be heard ahead, "My Aveline, what strong arms you have. I wonder are your thighs are just as—"

"Shut-up, whore." Aveline cut her off.

Fenris and Hawke wandered after their friends in amicable silence.

* * *

A bottle and a half of whiskey and three bottles of wine later: the group was sufficiently tanked. Aveline had long returned to the barracks, and the remaining four sat in a sloppy circle dispersed about the room. Fenris silently watched the group from the side of the fireplace.

"What do you think we'll find in the Deep Roads?" Isabella asked to no one in particular, her head lolling off the side of the couch.

"We?" Anders asked, incredulously, "Count me out, there isn't a desire in the world that could lead me back there."

"Not even twenty naked women, laying on piles of gold, waiting to be rescued; hungry for the electric touch of a dashing mage?" the pirate wiggled her fingers.

"Are they darkspawn women?" Anders asked, entertaining the idea.

"Does it matter?"

"It definitely matters." Anders said dryly as Isabella fell into laughter

"Do darkspawn even have genitals?" Hawke asked, "Hey, I'm talking to you mage," she threw a dusty pillow at Anders when he failed to respond.

"You do realize you're a mage too, right?"

Hawke kindled a small flame in her hands, looking at it with confusion and mock surprise,

"What in the-?" she yelled as Isabella continued laughing, and Fenris simply shook his head.

She flicked her wrist, tossing the small ball of fire onto Anders, who shot up with a yelp. Isabella rolled off the couch laughing.

"Maker," Anders said glancing out the window, "the sun is going to come up soon. I need to get back to the clinic," He paused, "Hawke, would you like me to walk you home?" Fenris's eyes jerked towards the abomination, then over to Hawke to gauge her reaction.

"What about me!" Isabella feigned hurt.

"You can take care of yourself, you dirty pirate." Anders joked, but maintained a hopeful gaze towards Hawke.

"Hawke can take care of herself as well." Fenris said more roughly than he had intended.

"I'm fine Anders. Varric and I are meeting Bartrand up here soon anyway."

She glanced over at Isabella who had passed out and begun snoring sometime in the last 30 seconds, before turning to Fenris,

"That is, if I can abuse your hospitality longer?"

He shrugged his shoulders attempting indifference, and leaned back against the stone of the fireplace.

Anders looked between Fenris and Hawke; clearly not liking whatever it was he saw, before giving up,

"Come on worthless," he dragged Isabella to her feet.

"Such a way with words, he has," Isabella joked, half asleep.

They slowly began what was sure to be an arduous journey back to Lowtown. The two that remained basked in the sudden silence. Fenris brought the bottle in his hand to his mouth, continuing his look forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hawke watching him, and turned to meet her stare. She was sitting on the opposite side of the hearth, half of her face bathed in the warm flicker of the fire and the other concealed in darkness. Fenris took a moment to admire the visual personification of the woman in front of him: She was all at once transparent and cloaked, simultaneously unguarded and cryptic.

The whiskey burned his throat going down, joining the warm fire that had begun to hum beneath his skin. Hawke stood and walked towards the open window, pausing to look over her shoulder with a sly grin, "Come on."

She disappeared through the window, leaving Fenris alone in the room. When she didn't return, he approached the opening, cautiously sticking out his head and looking around. His eyes caught Hawke, perched to his right. She widened her smile before spinning around and leaping towards a higher platform, gracefully pulling herself up.

"I am too drunk for this." He sighed under his breath before hauling himself out onto the roof.

"Fasta vass, Hawke, do you practice climbing while drunk?" he grunted as he lunged for the overhang, dangling off the edge before dragging himself onto the platform.

"That's my secret, Fenris. I'm always a little drunk." She smiled at him before turning to look out ahead.

He straightened himself up next to her, following her gaze outward; they were just high enough to overlook the entire city. In the clear, grey light of early dawn, the view stretched all the way to the steep cliffs of the Wounded Coast and beyond. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, tinting the edges yellow and pink.

"Hawke, how many times have you been on my roof?"

She smiled mischievously, "To be fair, its not just me."

He sighed, defeated. "I'm never going to be alone again, am I?"

Hawke laughed, twisting to look at him, "Why would you ever want to be alone when you could be with us?"

She seated herself, hanging her legs off the edge of the roof, and Fenris joined her. The glow of his markings intensified with their close proximity. Fenris alternated between watching her and the horizon. She was leaned back on her hands, lost in thought as she had been at the beach.

The alcohol had spread a comforting heat throughout his limbs. He studied Hawke's relaxed features, and wine-warmed cheeks, absently wondering what they would feel like under his touch.

He shook his head, looking away back towards the slowly rising sun. "Hawke…" he began, unsure of where he was going, "I feel I must apologize again."

"For eating my cookie last time Merrill baked?" Hawke leaned her head to the side, looking up at him.

He groaned, shaking his head and maintaining a distant gaze, "No. For how I behaved when we first met."

"Maker Fenris, you don't need to apologize for that again. I think somewhere around the hundredth raider attack, you've made up for it."

"Even still…" He thought of her mother's words, and his changing disposition towards the mage.

Turning from the sky, he faced Hawke, who was distractedly chewing on her bottom lip. The action increased the fervor that had been brewing inside of him all evening. "Hawke, you have shown admirable strength of mind, body, and character that would be enviable across all of Thedas. You are selfless, terrifying, and…" He grappled with finding the right words, "Kaffas." He muttered, looking around.

Hawke quirked a smile at his discomfort, "You know, my bites not that bad." She joked.

"Festis bel umo canavarum." He ran his hands through his hair. Still not understanding what he was trying to say. It was as if his body was acting completely on its own accord.

"You make me question… many things." He paused, looking into her eyes, "I didn't know your father, but from what I have seen of you, I imagine he must have been a very impressive man, and it is quite obvious to anyone paying attention that he would be proud of you." Fenris finished quickly.

Hawke's features immediately sobered, and Fenris was unsure if he had said the right thing or not.

"Fenris…" for once Hawke appeared to be at a loss for words. He watched as she gently reached her hand towards his, wavering before placing it lightly over his own. The light from his lyrium threatened to burst from his skin as it erratically buzzed beneath her hand.

The touches they had previously shared had always been more akin to pushing and punching; there was something intoxicatingly intimate about this simple contact.

Cautiously, she lowered her head onto his shoulder, looking out ahead.

They sat for a long moment in silence, nothing but the light drone of his markings beneath her interrupting the quiet.

Fenris watched Hawke on his shoulder, startled by the strength of desire that had flooded his chest. He had never experienced anything like it, and was unnerved.

He reproaching himself for drinking too much, and looked for a way to distance himself from the mage before he made a mistake that he couldn't undo. As he came to the decision to move, Hawke tilted her head to look up at him. Her discerning gaze imprisoned him, and he found he lacked the resolve to leave.

Fenris returned her stare, his heart beating nervously; she swallowed slowly, leaning slightly closer. Fenris watched a small vein pulsing rapidly in her neck, and followed the flush of red up her pale skin until he met her eyes.

In that moment he stopped fighting, and leaned forward; taking a moment to savor her gentle, warm breath.

Hawke!"

The yell startled both Hawke and Fenris, and they butted heads with force. Fenris let out a string of Tevene curses.

"What are you doing up there?" Varric shouted from far below in the courtyard.

"I see your boots hanging off! I know you're up there!" Varric continued shouting when he received no response.

"Just admiring the view, Varric." Hawke called down, frustration and embarrassment tinting her voice.

"Well, come down here! You're going to wake the whole neighborhood if you keep yelling!"

Fenris watched Hawke sigh with exhaustion, awkwardly scratching the back of her head; her cheeks inflaming further as the moment wore on.

"I guess duty calls." She looked at him, and hesitated a moment before appearing to change her mind. Instead, she turned from the elf and jumped down to the second awning before facing him, "Thank you, Fenris."

With that, she leapt and swung her way down the side of the mansion, disappearing from his sight. Fenris rubbed his face, attempting to erase the remaining fog from his mind. The warmth from earlier had vanished along with Hawke, replacing it with the cold doubt of early morning.

"Kaffas."

* * *

**Woohoo! As always, thank you guys for reading my story. I hope I can keep everyone interested! **

**Rburger- Thank you! I chose Anders the first time too, but as soon as I met Fenris I changed that ;) haha. Thank you for reading!**

**Dani.777- Thank you so much, you're so sweet :) I'm really glad you're enjoying the story and I hope you continue to! **


	6. Chapter 6

The next few weeks were lost in a flurry of preparations for the expedition. Neither Hawke nor Fenris had revisited the evening on his roof. Both were afraid that the attempted kiss might have merely been a drunken impulse, and equally afraid that it had not been.

A week before the excursion the motley crew assembled, as usual, in Varric's suite at the Hanged Man. An excited buzz filled the air for the pending adventure.

Despite the time that had been put into packing and planning, the final company that would be making the journey had yet to be solidified. Hawke looked around at her friends, drinking and laughing, wondering which of them would even be willing to trek into the Deep Roads.

She and Varric were obviously the first two on the list, with Carver as a close third. Her brother would likely never forgive her if she were to leave him behind. Aveline wasn't an option, her work in the Guard was too involved for her to take the month off they would need to complete the expedition. Hawke worried about forcing Merrill to leave the alienage so soon after her relocation from her clan. The Dalish elf was still uncomfortable with the city, and a break from chaos with Hawke might be exactly what she needed to find her place. Isabella had shown no real interest, one way or the other. She would definitely be one to keep in mind, assuming she didn't up and disappear in the next week, which the pirate was prone to do now and again. Anders, while initially opposed to the idea, had shown an increased interest in the past week (an increased interest in Hawke, Isabella had insisted, moving her hips suggestively). Hawke put her hand up to conceal a smile, thinking of Isabella gyrating furiously on the street.

_Then there's always Fenris._

Maker's breath, she didn't know what to do about the elf or what she wanted to do for that matter. Well, she knew what she_ wanted_ to do, but warred over whether or not that would be wise.

This group had a good thing going for it. They were strong, resourceful, and relatively effective. Pursuing one of her companions could be detrimental for the whole, whether or not it worked out, and Hawke was having trouble seeing a positive outcome with their tempestuous tendencies.

She looked up at the elf, silently musing in his chair: a quite control amongst the storm of their friends that surrounded them. As if sensing her gaze, he looked up, catching her in the act. In an attempt to look away as quickly and naturally as possible (typically two mutually exclusive acts), Hawke ended up spilling her drink all over Anders's lap.

"So, who's coming with me and Hawke on vacation?" Varric asked the pack while Hawke attempted to dry Anders's robes with a small flame in her hands.

"Dark, dank caverns, giant spiders, and darkspawn: Just was the healer ordered." Hawked joked, looking up at Anders after finishing her task at drying his robes. He smiled down at her appreciatively.

"You will need as much strength as you can get, I will go if I am needed." Fenris broke his silence for the first time that evening.

Hawke looked towards him again, but he appeared to be looking everywhere but at her.

"I will go as well. If you need it." Anders surprised everyone by volunteering.

"Another healer might be a good idea," Varric shrugged, "Alright we've got Hawke, Fenris, Anders, myself, and…" Varric turned to look at Carver, "I'm sure you won't stand to be left behind, will you junior?"

"Not on my life, dwarf."

"What about you Ravaini? Not interest in braving ancient dwarven tunnels?" Varric raised his brow at Isabella.

"And leave your majestic suite unattended?" Isabella circled the room, stroking a bookshelf lovingly.

"You and Daisy are going to destroy my home while I'm gone. Aren't you?"

"Destroy is such a negative word. I prefer… utilize. Extensively."

The pirate dodged a book Varric had hurled across the room, and the room dissolved once more into separate conversations.

* * *

Fenris suspected Hawke might be avoiding him, he also suspected he might be avoiding her as well. They had not been alone together since his roof, thus the awkward air had only grown, and Fenris was at a loss for what to do. The desire to kiss her that evening had been strong, but now he worried it had been too rash. He watched her face appreciatively scan the room of their companions, wondering what she saw when she looked at each of them. He already knew what he saw when he looked at her; he had quite embarrassingly revealed much of it to her already.

Fenris tore his gaze away from Hawke, choosing instead to study his ale. He did not regret what he had told her; it had been the honest truth. However, he wondered if perhaps he had allowed himself to be carelessly swept away with the tidal wave that was Marion Hawke. He was not only new to freedom, but also to steady companions, and he did not want to risk upsetting the delicately set balance he had found.

He couldn't help but steal another glance of her face, only to realize she was staring back, her deep blue eyes watching him. Taken aback by the sudden contact, she jerked her head away, and in the process, tipped her drink over onto the abomination. Fenris's small grin of satisfaction immediately transformed into a frown as Hawke began drying the abomination's wet clothes.

A small burn of irritation began in Fenris's stomach, intensifying the longer the mage kept his yearning gaze on Hawke. Fenris already did not trust the abomination, and the man's recent increase of interest in Hawke only increased the elf's unease.

Somewhere in the distance he heard Varric asking for volunteers, and without much forethought, he offered his assistance. Maintaining his watch anywhere, but on Hawke and the abomination.

Hadn't he just made the decision to proceed with caution? Volunteering for a dangerous mission into the Deep Roads was definitely not erring on the side of restraint.

Alack, there was no going back now. Besides, they would need more than daggers and magic to bring them safely through to the other side, and Fenris did have a promise to keep.

* * *

Everyone met in Hightown the morning of the expedition, the sun had just begun to rise and the heavy humidity of the day had already set in. The group was standing in a circle when Varric's brother, Bartrand began his speech,

"Alright, lets not waste any more time! We've chosen one of the hidden entrances, the Deep Roads there will be nice and virginal, ready for a good deflowering!" Bartrand's men cheered, Hawke's companions remained silent.

"It'll take a week for us to get to the depth we need; there are bound to be left over darkspawn from the Blight. Big risks, big reward! Now, before we— wait, who invited the old woman?"

Hawke followed Bartrand's gaze, only to see Leandra, rushing towards them.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Sir Dwarf, but I need to speak with my children."

Hawke and Carver moved away from the group, meeting their mother a few paces away. Carver spoke first,

"Mother no. We talked about how important this is."

"You can't take Carver with you." Leandra ignored her son, pleading with Hawke.

"I can't leave Carver behind, we've both worked for this. I need him." Hawke argued; Carver looked at his sister approvingly.

"Mother it's going to be okay, I'll be fine." He added.

"It's not fine," Leandra became desperate, "You can't both go. What if something were to happen to you?" she looked affectionately at Carver, before turning a much icier gaze to Hawke, "_You_ I understand wanting to do this, but leave your brother here. I beg you."

Hawke felt her heart harden as she listening to her mother's words. She had long abandoned hope that her mother would love her the way she had her siblings, but somehow her spirit continued to wilt a little more every time it was reinforced.

"I said I'm going," Carver put his foot down.

Bartrand had finally had enough of their squabbling,

"Well, you're not going to be able to take everyone anyhow. Varric, you need to decide."

"Calm down dear brother we've already got it figured out. Er, right Hawke?"

"I'm sorry mother, but Carver speaks for himself. He's been working towards this just as hard as I have." Hawke turned from her mother, "Everyone Ready?"

Leandra ran in front of her son, "Carver I beg you, don't go. Don't do this."

Carver reached out to his mother, adopting a sympathetic tone, "Don't worry about me so. I can take care of myself, you'll see." He turned to join the team.

Leandra shot a lethal glare at Hawke as she moved back into the crowd with the remainder of Hawke's friends. Isabella awkwardly reached out a sympathetic hand to Hawke's mother, who accepted the comfort and then some, falling into Isabella's arms and weeping. The pirate looked like she'd rather be peeling off her own toenails as she mechanically patted Leandra's back.

"Personal drama over with?" Bartrand mocked, "Lets get underway."

"Been a long time coming, eh brother?" Varric nudged Bartrand.

"That it has. Come on, the Deep Roads await!"

And with that, they were off.

* * *

Fenris's growing distaste for Leandra was only accelerated by her display in Hightown. He had caught the withering glare she had given Hawke, and he would not soon forget the dejected look Hawke had immediately masked over.

Varric and Anders had recognized their deflated leader as well. Carver however, seemed ignorant to the entire ordeal, or at least immune to it by now. Fenris imagined this type of interaction between Hawke and their mother had been a longstanding habit. Carver also held too much bitterness towards his sister to recognize her difficulty, just as Hawke had trouble understand the shadow she had cast over her younger brother. Sometime, you were standing too close to see the bigger picture at work.

Anders was the first to seek to comfort Hawke. Speeding up to meet her pace, ahead of the group with Carver. Fenris distantly listened to their laughter and the murmurings of casual conversation.

"Has Hawke's mother always been…" Fenris tailed off, looking for the appropriate words.

"Kind of a bitch?" Varric finished, not quite as diplomatically as Fenris was expecting, "Yeah. Though, I think it's more of a control problem than anything else."

Fenris looked at Varric curiously, waiting for him to continue.

"Leandra is a noble's child. She shows love through control. Can you imagine reigning in Hawke, even as a child? I bet her mother went grey three months in." Varric laughed a little, "Carver is different. He might be hardheaded, but he's looking for structure, for purpose. Leandra has been able to provide those boundaries, and in turn feel needed and loved in a way she could never feel through Hawke."

"That is… interesting, and honestly a lot more than I was looking for."

"Oh really?" Varric asked accusingly, "So you've just been following the swaying hips of our dear leader for…what? Your health? Our safety? Because, I'm looking, but I don't seem to see anything important happening over there. Maybe I should just ask her?"

Seeing no way to win, Fenris remained silent.

* * *

They had been traveling for about a week, most of those days spent underground. On the sixth day of moving ever downward, Bartrand called the group to a halt. One of his scouts ran forward to meet them,

"There's been a collapse. The way forward is blocked." A dwarf delivered the bad news.

"What!" Bratrand snarled, advancing on the man, "Is there some way around?"

The man stumbled backwards, away from their angry leader,

"N-not that we've been able to find. The side passages are too dangerous."

Bartrand remained silent, seeming to have calmed down, and twirled his mustache. Before anyone could blink, he had cocked back his arm, sending it forward with a powerful punch to the young scout's face.

"Useless!" He shouted, turning to the remaining group assembled behind him, "what am I paying you blighters for?"

No one spoke.

"Set camp." He finally snarled, walking away.

Hawke and Varric looked at each other, shrugging, as they moved forward to find a place for their small group.

* * *

Hawke, Carver, Anders, and Fenris spread out around their fire, resting their worn feet, while Varric attempted to calm his brother, and figure out a new plan. Fenris sat adjacent from Hawke, watching her carefully. She had quickly recovered from her argument with her mother, but what had been recently bothering Fenris were Hawke's nightmares.

Their watch schedule always left Fenris to wake Hawke once his shift had ended, and it usually seemed to be around the time her dreams began. If anyone else had noticed, they had yet to mention it aloud. He hadn't even told Hawke what he'd seen, knowing the mage would only brush it off. Fenris could see how the dreams were beginning to take their toll however, by the darkened circles beneath her eyes, and uneaten food on her plate. Otherwise, Hawke appeared as relaxed and good humored as ever, leaning back against a large rock, and closing her eyes.

"I must admit," Anders yawned lazily, sprawled out on a mat, "It hasn't been too bad of a trip so far. Barring the constant horrible stench. I haven't sensed a single darkspawn. At least not near by."

"You can sense them?" Hawke asked intrigued, opening her eyes a little.

"One of a very long lists of additives for being a Grey Warden. Most of them are not as useful. Trust me."

"Still, to be a Grey Warden…" Carver said with no small amount of awe.

"Trust me, kid. Its much better on paper."

"I am _not_ a kid." Carver sat in petulant silence.

"Didn't you say you met the Hero of Ferelden?" Hawke asked. Fenris saw a gleam of hero worship behind her eyes.

"You mean the Queen?" Anders wagged his brows, "more than met, I worked with her. Well, _for_ her, for a while." Anders smiled proudly, "What a woman: smart, passionate, disturbingly powerful."

"Don't stop now," Carver encouraged him.

"She actually reminds me a lot of you, Hawke." He turned to look at the mage.

"Okay, now you can stop." Carver protested.

Hawke laughed at her brother, who glared in return.

"Well, not entirely like you. No offense, but she _was_ a noble woman. Very refined." Anders added.

Hawke responded with a belch, "You saying I'm not sophisticated, mage?"

They fell into more laughter, Fenris shaking his head in the corner.

"I just mean, you're both clearly destined for something… more." Anders finished, looking down shyly. Fenris tried not to scoff at the abomination.

"Well personally I hope destiny brings me more gold, and more whiskey." Hawke lifted her mug to a resounding huzzah from her comrades.

"No desire to be crowned Queen?" Fenris looked over at Hawke, wondering if she might require something so grand.

"Too much jewelry." She wrinkled her nose.

The answer pleased him more than he cared to admit. Fenris watched in silence as the other three continued their conversation, primarily focused on what they were going to buy with their share of gold.

"Hawke!" Varric called out, motioning her over with his hand.

"The Queen is being hailed." Carver teased, as Hawke pushed herself up to stand.

"Fair thee well, dirty peasants." Hawke gave an exaggerated curtsy before running off to meet Varric.

* * *

"Yes, my liege?" Hawke placed her hands on Varric's shoulder.

"What the—? Never mind, listen, get everybody together, we're going to scout ahead." Varric turned to look at his brother, "You stay put, if we come running back screaming, you'll know staying put was the right decision."

"Fine, Fine! Find another way around. Just do it quickly!" Bartrand threw his hands over his head, walking away.

"Why didn't you ever tell me your brother was such a charmer, Varric? To think I spent all of these months pining after you."

"I'll set up a date as soon as we're out of this sodding hole."

* * *

As the four companions broke down camp, and prepared to leave, a frazzled dwarf approached them, wringing his hands. Hawke recognized him as a merchant from Hightown. She looked up at the dwarf from her spot on the ground, but continued with her task.

"Er… I hate to add to your burdens, my friends, but I fear I must. My boy, Sandal, wandered off, He's somewhere in those passages, right now!"

"One boy, out there on his own?" Hawke stopped packing for a moment, and looked back towards the worried father. "Its unlikely he's still alive."

"Pardon my friend Bodhan, she only speaks Fereldan." Varric interjected, pushing himself forward, "What she means to say is: we'll keep an eye out."

"My boy is sturdier than you think!" he wagged his finger at Hawke, "If he had one of his enchantments with him, he'll survive. He's burned down the house twice by accident."

Anders and Carver exchanged entertained looks. The dwarf walked away from the group, mumbling.

* * *

Their no-darkspawn streak came to a spectacular end once they entered the side passages. Cluster after cluster of rotting monsters attacked the group as they slowly carved their way forward. One hour and two horrendously large spiders later, they came to a small opening they had to squeeze through one at a time.

Hawke pushed herself through first and came to an immediate halt, as she faced piles of dead darkspawn littering the ground. Following the trail of death led to the back of a young dwarven boy, standing unharmed amongst the destruction. Varric had moved through the hole second, and subsequently ran into Hawke, causing them both to stumble forward. Carver and Fenris followed them, with slightly more grace.

"Well I'll be a nug's uncle, isn't that Bodhan's boy?" Varric asked, straightening up.

As they advanced, the boy turned around, smiling and covered in blood.

"Hello!" he waved cheerfully at the oncoming group.

Carver chuckled, "It is! The great warrior stands victorious!"

"How in the Void..." Hawke trailed off in disbelief.

Sandal pulled a small, engraved stone from his pocket and handed it to Hawke, one of his enchantments.

"Boom." He said.

"And that?" She stepped aside, pointing to the gargantuan ogre that appeared to be frozen, mid-attack.

"Not enchantment." Sandal replied simply, beginning to walk away.

"Smart boy." Varric watched bemused as the young dwarf left. "Come on. We still need to find a way around that collapse."

They all stood around the ogre a few moments longer, in awed silence. Hawke was the first to leave, the rest followed one by one, until Carver was left alone.

Finally becoming aware of the empty room around him, Carver glanced around, cursing. "Really?" he mumbled, beginning to jog after his companions. "Just going to leave me alone? Bunch of assholes." The warrior picked up his pace.

* * *

Entering the next room, Hawke made a move to step forward when Varric pulled her back by her armor, one foot hanging limply in the air.

"Honestly Hawke, you can't truly call yourself a rogue until you sharpen your observational skills." He smashed the butt of Bianca onto the ground, triggering a small trap to clamp shut.

"Now that's just rude. What are they trying to do, ruin my boots?" Hawke looked down at the sharp clamps.

She was about to thank him, when a strange wind filled the room, followed by the sound of flapping.

"Fenedhis!" Fenris cursed. "Dragon."

* * *

"Shit," Hawke ducked behind a stalagmite just in time at a ball of fire streamed passed her head.

The dragon was an adolescent at the oldest, but it was still powerful, and killing it was proving itself to be an exhausting task. As Hawke's fire spells were of little use, Anders and Varric were taking turns keeping the best distracted while she, Carver, and Fenris went in for closer shots. Looking around, Hawke could see her companions were losing stamina, but the Dragon was weakening as well. A Few more strategically placed blows and it would fall.

"Fenris!" She called him over. "I need you…" she was cut off, as they ducked another blast of fire.

Fenris looked at her, mildly confused.

"I need you to toss me." she completed the thought.

"What?"

"Toss me onto the back, I can take it down from there." She clarified. He looked skeptical, "Trust me. I can do this. Just don't tell the Dwarf." She grinned.

He nodded tightly in return.

"Let him have it!" she yelled at her friends.

When the dragon was sufficiently distracted by the other fighters, she and Fenris approached from behind. After moving next to the beast, Fenris stuck out his hand. Hawke grasped his forearm, and he held tightly to hers in return, his markings flaring magnificently. He looked into her eyes, making sure that she was ready; she nodded, crouching low behind him. Fenris's marking pulsed as he pulled his arm around with all of his strength, dragging Hawke along. At the same time, she pushed from the ground with all of the agility she could muster, emitting a wild battle cry. The combined effort sent Hawke's airborne frame to land directly on the neck of the dragon.

The dragon let out a crippling shriek, and began violently thrashing. Hawke was almost immediately thrown from its back, but she held on tightly. Wrapping her legs around its neck, she locked them firmly in place. Reaching behind her, she pulled out a dagger, and raised it above her head with both hands, bringing it down with all of her might into the top of the dragon's skull. A terrible cry rang out from the beast as it thrashed a few more times, sending Hawke flying across the room and into a wall, before it collapsed.

Carver swiftly brought his sword down upon the dragon's exposed neck, decapitating the beast. Varric let out aloud whoop, high-fiving Carver. Anders ran directly for Hawke, who had already stood up, dusting herself off, and Fenris fell back against a wall. Exhausted, and disbelieving that he had just thrown Hawke onto an angry dragon.

"Andraste's tits, Hawke!" Varric called out, walking over to her, "I don't even have to add flourishes to that story!"

"But you will, no doubt." Hawke laughed with effort.

"Well, maybe. We'll see. Every story could always use a bit more fire."

"I'd say this one had plenty of that," Anders looked down, examining his scorched robes, before extending a helping hand to Hawke.

"Hey, I think I found a passage across!" Carver called, signaling to a bridge and tunnel up ahead.

"Perfect, that goes right where we want it to." Varric examined the path, "Lets go back and get Bartand. He'll be so pleased." He finished dryly.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! :) **


	7. Chapter 7

After retrieving Bartrand and the rest of his men, the group continued forward on the newly discovered path. About two hours later, the narrow passages transformed into a grand, virtually untouched great hall.

"Holy shit." Varric puffed,

"Was this what you were expecting?" Hawke was equally as blown away as her friend.

Bartrand finally spoke, sharing their awe and confusion, "I thought… an abandoned thaig, something old, but… what _is_ this?"

The room was larger than anything they had encountered in the Deep Roads. Huge pillars, and strange vines that emitted a deep red glow surrounded them, framing a large staircase ascending towards a door in the back of the room.

"How did you even know it was here?" Hawke turned to Bartrand.

He answered her question, his eyes continuing to scan the room, "Old scavenger tales. After the Third Blight. A week below the surface, they said, but nobody believed them…"

"Looks like they were right."

"Make camp here!" Bartrand shouted at the rest, "We need to look around."

* * *

They dispersed, setting up camps all over the thaig. Hawke's group took a moment to relax and heal. Ander's was working on Carver, while Varric sprawled out onto his bedroll, resting. Hawke approached Fenris, who was huddled in the corner, attempting to bandage his own wounds.

"Anders can take care of that Fenris."

"I'd rather not." he frowned at the idea

"Maker's breath Fenris, he's not going to steal your soul." Hawke laughed.

"Even so." The elf continued wrapping his wounds, never looking up.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Will you allow me to help, at least?"

Fenris ceased his motions for a moment, before reluctantly holding out his arm to her.

"Do as you must."

She began to work on his bleeding arm, moving her hands slowly down the cuts and tears from his shoulders to his forearms, and trying not to become too distracted by the dancing light that followed her touch.

"Thanks." She said after a time, he looked up confused, "For throwing me onto the dragon."

"That's not something I hear every day."

"For not questioning me, I mean. I appreciate it."

"I would never question your strength."

"Just my intent then?" She asked, remembering his words when they had first met.

"Even the best intentioned mage—" he echoed her thoughts. Her gentile grip tightened uncomfortably on his arm cutting off his statement, "Hawke, I—"

"Hawke." Varric interrupted, standing, and stretching out his limbs, "Let Anders finish up, we should speak with Bartrand.".

Hawke, irritated by the turn in conversation, despite her role in encouraging it, dropped Fenris's mostly healed arm, and walked away with Varric.

She didn't know why she poked the bear. Everyone knew how Fenris felt about magic, and yet shecontinued to bait him as if she expected a different outcome. Pushing the thought from her mind, she instead focused on the mission at hand. They were, after all, two weeks deep in a mysterious and ancient thaig.

Varric and Hawke found Bartrand pacing the base of the grand stairs. When he heard their approach, he turned to face them.

"I don't get it. Nothing in this thaig makes sense."

"What are you going on about?" Varric put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"We're well below the deep roads. Whatever dwarves lived here, they came long before the first Blight. But where are the statues of Paragons? I don't recognize these markings on the wall or anything in the rubble." Bartrand seemed genuinely concerned, his mind strained.

"That means its valuable." Hawke whispered to Varric, who masked a smile.

"You stay here, brother. We'll look around." He clapped Bartrand on the back, and the three stood a moment longer in silence, taking in the strange room that surrounded them.

* * *

After gathering the remainder of their group, they began their descent deeper into the ruins, searching for anything of value.

Hawke didn't know very much about Dwarven lore, but even she could tell this place wasn't normal. There was a foreign feeling about the thaig. Something she couldn't see, but could vaguely feel, a faint tugging at the back of her mind. Her nightmares had also increased in frequency, and she only hoped that no one else had noticed.

The dreams varied, sometimes different, sometimes the same, but thry always ended up with Hawke plummeting to her death, and a splitting headache. Both of which she could do without.

A light hand on her shoulder startled her from her thoughts. She looked around, noticing that she had stopped moving. Varric and Fenris had long surpassed her and were searching ahead. Hawke followed the hand to Anders, who was starting down at her, concern furrowing his brow.

"Are you alright?"

Hawke flashed a small smile, "Just tired, Anders." He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and they continued forward. Before she moved much further, however, she was stopped again, this time by Bodhan.

"You found him! I can't believe it, you found him!" the dwarf ran forward looking like he might throw his arms around Hawke, but stopped short, sticking out his hand instead.

Hawke grasped it in return,

"You were right, he really didn't need our help at all." She smiled.

"Hello." Sandal waved from behind his father.

"I owe you a great debt. I will repay it somehow— I swear my life on it!" Bodhan continued.

Hawke waved her hands in front of her, "We only stumbled on him, he had saved himself already."

"I insist. You will not regret this." Bodhan shook her hand again, and turned to Sandal, "Say thank you to the nice lady for saving your life."

Sandal stared forward for a long moment of silence before complying, "Thank you."

A long and awkward stillness followed as the three individuals stared blankly at one another. Hawke excused herself, nodding to the strange family, and continued on after the rest of her companions.

They finally came upon a long, crudely carved stairwell. At the bottom was yet another empty cavern with more of the strange, red light emanating brightly around the corner.

Varric stopped next to Hawke, "Hmm. Whatever's through there, might still be intact. Think we'll find anything?"

"Varric, you are notably under enthused by a mysterious, glowing red room. Perhaps I should have brought Bartrand along." She watched him from the corner of her eye.

"Unlike my dear brother, I wasn't born in Orzammar. I hate it underground. I wouldn't even be down here if there wasn't profit in it. Let's hope it's worth it."

Hawke couldn't argue with that.

"Personally, I hope we find more darkspawn. I just don't think I have enough of them in my life already."

"Well, I suppose we'll need to go down there to find out." Varric shrugged.

* * *

As could be assumed, they ran into more darkspawn, but after a short fight, they came face-to-face with another large, stone door. Prying it open, they slid inside, finding themselves standing in a grand, untouched room. The great hall was completely intact, bordered with towering ornate pillars and a mysterious red glow that illuminated the area. Down the center of the room was a large staircase, also undamaged.

The companions wandered about in awe for a moment. Hawke couldn't keep her eyes off a stone table at the top of the stairs, something was shimmering brightly atop the smooth surface, and a long sweet note enticed her ears. Distant words began to form,

"_We are here_

_We have waited_

_We have slept_

_We are sundered"_

She crept forward, toward the shrine. As she came closer, the song increased in volume, until she could hear nothing else. She studied the source, fascinated; it appeared to be some sort of strange idol.

The statue itself was disturbing: a withered and sorrowful woman gazed up with empty, hallowed eyes, desperately grasping the skeletal form of a man. Both figures appeared to be being consumed by a twisting, red fire. Snaking its way up from the base of the statue, the warm flames constricted and engulfed the carved figures.

"_We are crippled_

_We are polluted_

_We endure_

_We wait_

_We have found the dreams again_

_We will awaken"_

Before realizing what she was doing, Hawke reached for the object. Her fingers had just brushed the surface when a crippling pain surged through her body. A bright white light erupted between her hand and the idol, thrusting her backwards a few feet. She crouched down, attempting to suppress the waves of pain surging through her. The once sweet note had turned sour, and the high-pitched whining was deafening. Blackness consumed her as the screeching noise and the pain gradually dwindled away, along with her consciousness.

When the pain had finally vanished, Hawke was on her back, surrounded by her companions.

"That was weird." She rubbed her head, trying to sound casual, but her voice was strained, as thought a heavy weight rested on her chest.

"What in the Void was that?" Carver pulled Hawke up to stand.

Hawke pointed to the strange statue in front of them, still trying to catch her breath.

"You see what I'm seeing?" Varric asked the group.

"Is that… lyrium?" Fenris sounded confused, "Is this all lyrium?"He gestured to the strange red growth that had covered much of the ruin so far.

"Well," Anders was examining Hawke, "It's definitely magic. And not the good kind."

"Good kind?" Fenris scoffed.

Varric ignored the elf, "Doesn't look like any kind of lyrium I've ever seen."

Bartrand strode through the open door, startling the group with his sudden appearance. "What do you have there, brother?"

"Ancestor's tits, Bartrand. Have you been following us this entire time?"

Bartrand ignored his brother, eyes locked on the glowing object behind them.

Varric sighed, "This thing might be made of pure lyrium. Could be worth a fortune."

His brother let out a low whistle, "You could be right. Excellent find."

Varric slowly approached the idol; the lyrium became active and the whispers intensified as he neared, and Hawke wondered if she was going crazy. She held her breath as he reached his hand out cautiously, looking back at the group once more for reassurance. He grabbed the figure, and Hawke tensed, preparing for disaster. Instead, the whisper's suddenly hushed in the dwarf's hands. Varric turned around and tossed it down the stairs to his brother, turning back to the group. Hawke relaxed, releasing her breath.

"Not bad." Varric dusted his hands together, "Let's take a look around, see if there's anything further in."

They began to further explore the room. A few moments later, a slow and deep rumble caught everyone's attention.

"The door!" Hawke shouted. They sprinted towards the closing portal, only to reach it just as it sealed shut. They began banging on the stone to Varric's brother on the opposite side.

"Bartrand! It's shut behind you!" Varric called out.

A cold laugh came from the other side of the door, "You always did notice everything, Varric." Bartrand's voice rang out.

Hawke and Varric exchanged stupefied looks before Varric yelled, "Are you joking? You're going to screw over your own brother for a lousy idol?" he kicked the door.

"It's not just the idol. The location of this thaig alone is worth a fortune, and I'm not splitting it three ways." Bartrand replied, "Sorry brother."

They listened as his footsteps retreated into the distance, leaving them in the deafening hush of their tomb.

Varric broke the silence, calling out desperately, banging and kicking the door, "Bartrand! Bartrand!"

Hawke put her hand on his shoulder, attempting to calm him, but was mostly distracted by her own panic. Varric was the un-phased one. She needed him to hold on so that she could keep it together.

The dwarf stopped punching the door only to begin pacing the room, "I swear, I will find that son of a bitch— sorry mother— and I will kill him!"

Hawke looked towards the other three; everyone seemed equally resigned to what was turning into their grim fate. They were lost in the Deep Roads.

Hawke sighed, "Let's hope there's a way out of here. Look around." She attempted to bring some order back to the scene.

Luckily, a cave-in revealed access to another hall at the opposite end of the room. Hawke only hoped it would lead them up towards the surface, and not further down.

* * *

They had been traveling for hours when they decided to set up camp for the evening. 'Setting up camp' meaning they all collapsed in relatively the same area, since all of their packs and supplies had been left at Bartrand's camp.

No one had spoken much since earlier, and that trend continued as they sat around a pitifully small fire without food. Hawke was not feeling hopeful as she laid herself down in a secluded corner. They would sleep in watches as usual. Carver was first, followed by Anders, Varric, then Fenris, and finishing up with Hawke. She couldn't imagine how any of them were going to sleep, however. Instead, she focused her breathing, and attempted to meditate, a skill she had never been terribly accomplished in. It wasn't until some time in the middle of Varric's shift, that Hawke finally slipped from consciousness.

_Hawke was standing alone in an empty blackness. She held her hand out in front of her, examining how the dark swallowed it like thick, murky water. _

"_We are here_

_We have waited_

_We have slept_

_We are sundered"_

_The words crept from the darkness around her, filling her ears with its inhuman whine, and an uncomfortable heat began to pulse through the dark._

"_We are crippled_

_We are polluted"_

_The volume increased, and Hawke clenched her eyes shut. The voices grew louder and louder, and she could feel the strange, fiery heat intensifying around her, threatening to burn her skin._

"_We endure_

_We wait_

_We have found the dreams again_

_We will awaken"_

_Just when she thought she might not be able to withstand any longer, a heavy silence fell upon her. She remained still, eyes shut, only her deep breaths interrupting the quite. The blistering heat was receding, and slowly being replaced by a cool draft. _

_A soft voice began in the distance; it was quiet and familiar, caressing Hawke's ears, and abating the burn of her scalded skin._

"_The paths ahead are lost in darkness, and those who walk them find only ruin."_

_Hawke opened her eyes. The ominous red glow had been exchanged for a soft white light, slowly moving towards her. She looked up, studying it. A shadowed figure stood before her, cloaked in the gentle, shimmering glow. The voice continued,_

"_To she who winds the skein of wisdom,_

_Save us from the wine of vengeance and the hunger of power,_

_Save us from the silence which devours."_

_The pull Hawke felt was different than earlier. It wasn't fueled by craving, but instead by surety and comfort. She reached for the indiscernible figure, but her hands passed through it, dispersing the form into smoke, and encasing Hawke in darkness once more. _

_After a moment, a small light appeared in the distance of the vast night before her. Hawke approached the faint, flickering light with trepidation. A disquieting ringing filled her ears as she neared the mystery, her anxiety increasing. _

_The first thing Hawke spied was a leather boot, slightly illuminated by the flame. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed the boot was attached to a body. Varric lay lifeless before her. Red crystals sprouted from his eyes, parts of his body and nails, and his red veins shown bright beneath his greyed skin. She took a sudden step back in horror, stumbling over another body in the process: Isabella's. Hawke looked out around her, finding herself completely surrounded by the corpses of her family and friends. All in a similar, if not worse state as the one before it. She tried to let out a horrified sob, but couldn't find her voice. She tried to escape, continuing to trip over bodies, unable to flee the death that surrounded her. _

_She missed her footing and began to fall, expecting to hit the ground, but the feeling never came. Instead, she continued to free-fall into the black. A voice whispered gently into her ear,_

"_There are those who struggle against destiny and yet achieve only an early grave. There are those who flee destiny, only to have it swallow them whole. Then there are those who embrace destiny, and do not show their fear. These are the ones who change the world forever."_

* * *

Fenris was only ten minutes into his shift when he heard Hawke in her corner. He approached quietly. The mage was sweating and shaking. Her throat was tight and her sounds, tense.

Fenris knelt down next to her, unsure of what else to do. He slowly reached his hand to hers. She jerked her hand forward, grabbing his arm and holding it tightly. Continuing to restrict her grip, breathing heavily between silent sobs.

Fenris felt mildly panicked, his markings burned bright beneath her fingers, but it was stronger and more unstable than usual. He began to lightly shake her, to no avail. After some time, her death grip lessened. As her heartbeat steadied, his erratic markings settled into a calm hum. Finally, all that remained as evidence of the nightmare was her pale face and sweat soaked clothes.

He continued to watch her intently. Her eyes slowly opened, and she squinted up at him, parting her lips, "Fenris." She whispered lightly, still half-asleep. The words travelled immediately down to the pit of his stomach.

"Fenris?" her voice came again, this time clearer and more confused. She retracted her hand from him and sat up.

"Fuck." Hawke stretched her arms, keeping her profile to Fenris, and rubbing her head, "Is it my watch?"

Fenris studied her carefully cultivated calm, "No. You were… dreaming."

"Oh, that's embarrassing." She grimaced and laughed humorlessly.

Fenris continued to watch her. "How long have you been having nightmares?" he asked.

"Not too long, but they've gotten worse." She sighed, "and more creatively disturbing."

She tried to joke, but the tone was wrong, and only succeeded in further furrowing his brow. Dreams and mages did not go well together, and Fenris couldn't help but feel guarded. He was about to move away when he became increasingly aware of the heat radiating off of her skin. They hadn't been alone since the evening on Fenris's roof. And, like the well-adjusted adults they were, they had chosen not to discuss it either. Furthermore, the last time they had spoken had been the beginnings of yet another argument.

He watched as Hawke fidgeted in discomfort. She ran her hands through the disheveled knot her hair had become, taking it down, and lighting ran her fingers through it. Her eyes scanned all about the room, distinctly avoiding him.

He watched the familiar blush that crept up her long neck, and the pulse that hastened beneath his gaze.

"I'm not going to turn into an abomination, Fenris. You don't have to keep looking at me like that."

Fenris sighed, partly in exasperation, and partly because that had been on his list of concerns. "Hawke, my feelings about magic aren't always a direct reflection of its user. Its just a reality of possibilities."

"Anything could happen to anyone, at any time. Emotions are more often the culprit of danger than magic." She countered.

"Nothing surpasses the devastation of emotionally fueled magic." He leaned forward, irritated, his lyrium reaching towards her slightly.

"What do you want Fenris? Did you wake me up just so you could insult me?" She asked sharply.

He was about to argue further when she stopped him, speaking in a deliberately controlled tone, "Fenris, we're lost weeks below the surface without any supplies. I don't want to argue with you. Nightmares are on the bottom of my list. They should be on the bottom of yours too."

Fenris nodded simply in agreement, but neither party moved. The tension lessened as Hawke's eye's left his, and traveled down his face, studying the exposed lyrium patterns on his neck. He watched her brow crease in the soft glow of his markings. When she realized he was watching her, she looked away nervously, before turning back to face him.

"Sorry." The corner of her lips quirked up a little, "The light just… feels familiar."

Holding her gaze, Fenris decided he wanted nothing more than to smooth the worried wrinkle forming between her brows. Once again, finding himself forced to reconcile with the fact that there were interests higher on his list than his distaste for magic. Especially when it came to one mage in particular.

The entire room was silent save for Carver's snores, when the ground around them began to tremble.

"Fastas Vaas." Fenris cursed, as he and Hawke jumped up to stand.

The other companions were quickly shaken awake as well. They all gathered together looking around bewildered. As the walls and ceiling began to crumble around them, they sprinted down a cavernous hall and into a narrow opening. Hawke ushered everyone in, throwing herself in last as the final pile of rocks collapsed, caving in the way they had come.

* * *

Everyone stood, dusting themselves off and scanning the new, dark room. Hawke flicked her wrists, sending out small orbs of fire and illumining the area.

"Well, we're not going back that way." Hawke gestured to the blocked entrance. She turned to examine the space.

It was tall and cavernous. Tall silver pillars stretched to the ceiling wrapped in intricate veins of the strange red lyrium.

"What in the void was that?" Carver shook pebbles and debris from his hair.

"I have no clue, but lets not do that again." Varric straightened his coat and checked Bianca.

The ground began to rumble again, "Oh, come on!" Varric shouted.

Behind them, a large pile of dust kicked up into a cloud. When it settled, four large creatures made of rock stood in its place.

"What the—" a flame shot from one of the beasts, singeing Anders's robe and halting his line of questions.

Varric shot a flask into the center, effectively debilitating the monsters temporarily. Anders followed suit, casting chain lighting. Carver, Fenris and Hawke charged forward into the battle. Slashing and swinging, until the rock creatures lie in a crumbled pile, leaving gashes and bruises as the only sign of their appearance.

"Bloody flames! What were those things?" Varric looked around disturbed.

Before the group could assess the situation, yet another deep tremble began, from the ground grew an even larger rock creature. However, this one did not attack, or approach. Instead, it spoke.

"Enough."

The group froze.

"You have proven your mettle. I would not see these creatures harmed without need."

"I'd say being attacked on sight gives us plenty of need." Hawke stepped forward.

"They will not assault you further. Not without my permission."

"What are these things? They seem like rock wraiths…. But…" Varric trailed off, unsure.

"They hunger." The large creature rumbled.

"Uh… yeah. That."

"The profane have lingered in this place for ages beyond memory. Feeding on the magic stones until the need is all they know."

"The lyrium? That's what sustains you?" Fenris asked skeptically.

"I am not as they are. I am… a visitor."

"Demon." Fenris wielded his sword, flashing white.

"It seems mostly interested in their hunger." Anders studied it, "It's a demon alright, come to feed." He finished, narrowing his eyes.

"I would not see my feast end." The creature began, "I sense your desire. You seek to leave this place, but you will need my aid to do so."

"Is that so?" Hawke crossed her arms.

The demon chuckled humorlessly, "Hmm, such pride. Do you think I could not bend you to my will? Do you think yourself so strong?" he stepped closer to Hawke, "So tired, so hungry…"

A blinding forced blazed inside Hawke's mind, and she bent over in pain. It felt as if an invisible force was trying to burrow into her skull. With an almost involuntary reflex, Hawke gathered all of her focus and energy, expelling the intruder from her mind with a burst of energy. The demon wraith staggered back, startled and looked at Hawke,

"What's this? Something coming out to play?" it chuckled.

Carver ran forward to catch his sister and she fell to her knees, "You're going to make a habit of this, are you?"

Anders followed, holding Hawke's face and examining her. Fenris and Varric tried to keep their focus on the demon, slowing moving to block their leader from its view.

"So, what do you say?" The demon offered its help again.

Anders looked to Hawke, who was attempting to push her caretakers away, and standing on her own. "Don't do it. Demons will trip you up every time."

"I cannot believe I agree with the abomination." Fenris added.

Hawke pushed forward through her friends until she was standing in front of the demon, "Here's my answer." She cocked her arm back and sent her fist flying into the rock's face. The creature grunted, lurching back, and Hawke quickly withdrew her broken hand.

"Worth it." She choked out to Varric, holding her injured arm.

"Ah! Foolish!" it cried. The stones collapsed back into the dirt, while at the same time, more of the smaller wraiths appeared around the room.

The group backed into a circle, bordered by the monsters.

Varric turned to Fenris, "For clarities sake: did Hawke just punch a demon in the face?"

"That she did." Fenris couldn't help but smirk.

* * *

Hawke stood, bloody and bruised, above the dying demon. Her arm raised, prepared to give the final blow. Her companions stumbled around the periphery of the room, gathering themselves after the long battle.

"_You look at me and you think monster, but I wonder what your companions would think if they knew what you were?"_ the wraith spoke inside Hawke's mind. The voice halted her assault, only for a second, but the moment was long enough for the demon. With the last of its energy, the profane shot forward its stone arm towards the woman. Hawke immediately dropped her weapon, grasping at the slate that threatened to impale her abdomen. Her arms struggled against the demon, and her broken hand screamed in protest; she was built for speed, not strength. Even in its weakened state, the wraith was progressing forward, and had already broken through her armor.

Before her companions could react, a golden light began glowing beneath Hawke's hands. Spreading rapidly through the cracks in the stone, and illuminating a labyrinth of intricate paths. After a moment of silence, everything exploded.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! You're all amazing.**

**Dani.777- You're awesome. I hope you're still enjoying it ;) **


	8. Chapter 8

Fenris watched immobilized as the demon struggled with Hawke, and he saw the exact moment it appeared she was going to lose. It was like the Blooming Rose all over again.

Seconds from her seemingly inevitable demise, a bright, golden light began to glow through the cracks of the wraith, emanating from the mage. The room hummed with electrcity as the light grew brighter. Fenris's markings were reacting violently to the foreign engery, as though the lyrium threatened to burst from his skin. Just as he thought he could take no more, the strange light erupted. The blast caught everyone by surprise, sending them all flying across the room in various directions.

Fenris hit a wall, sliding down onto the ground limply as the air was knocked from his lungs. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before he rolled onto his stomach with a grunt. Steadying his breath, he pushed himself up to stand, straining beneath the overwhelming pain that wracked his entire body. His eyes immediately searched the place Hawke had last been, but he found only rubble.

The room shuttered once more, followed by silence. Fenris slowly began shuffling towards the still pile of rocks. He vaguely heard his companions around him, helping each other stand and calling out for their missing leader, but he felt completely isolated. The muffled voices grew more and more distant as the pressure in Fenris's chest grew tighter. He continued to move towards the spot he had last seen her. There had still been no movement; his heart constricted painfully, and his breath became shallow. As he slowly moved, his limbs numbed further and he began to wonder if he would even be able to reach the rubble before collapsing.

_No. I will not allow it._

Fenris released a string of pleas in Tevene to any god that came to mind, continuing to struggle forward, burned, bruised, and broken. He couldn't fathom the possibility that she was gone. As he neared, a few small rocks tumbled from the top of the pile to the ground. More stone shifted and rolled away from the center as rock continued to shift, until finally, a small hand revealed itself.

Hawke let out a long groan as she pushed the remaining stones from of her body and sat up.

"Andraste's flaming ass. Never again. Never. Again." The woman rubbed her head with her crumpled and bloody hands.

Fenris had never known relief like the cool wave of Hawke's voice. There was no one else in the room accept for the foolish, arrogant, lucky Hawke She was alive.

Renewed with vigor, Fenris's gait increased in speed. He reached Hawke quickly, and without pausing to think, lifted her body from the rubble, pulling her tightly against him. She cried out in surprise and pain as she was crushed in the elf's arms. His markings flared brightly at the first contact, and continued to buzz and hum unevenly the longer he held her. After a moment of surprise, Hawke loosened her rigid posture, relaxing into him. He leaned his head deeply into the crook of her neck, and lightly inhaled her scent: blood and fire.

Loosening his grip, he slowly allowed her to slide down his body until her feet were flat on the ground. His arms were still wrapped around her waist and back as she stared up at him.

Varric cleared his throat behind them, and reality came back into focus. Fenris became increasingly conscious of the many eyes that watched them, and the fitful beat of Hawke's heart against his own.

"I should try to die more often." Hawke joked.

Fenris dropped his arms and quickly stepped away from Hawke. Carver looked on mildly confused, and Anders turned away immediately silent. Fenris looked back at Hawke, who looked slightly offended by his reaction, but quickly smoothed her expression. She began healing her hands, and walked away from him, examining what remained of the demon.

Varric cleared his throat again as he walked up next to Hawke, to study the pile of rocks as well.

"Need some water for your throat, Varric?" Hawke asked, sounding annoyed.

He poorly concealed a smile, ignoring her question, "The rock wraiths are suppose to be dwarven legends. They're not even supposed to be real."

"Looked pretty real to me." She put her hands on her waist, considering the voice she had heard in her head.

"_You look at me and you think monster, but I wonder what your companions would think of you?"_

"So, are we not going to talk about the fact that you just made a rock demon explode?" Varric casually put his hands in his pockets.

"Lets put a pin in that for now." Hawke didn't remove her gaze from the lifeless stone.

"Uh guys, I don't think it matters what it was. Look at what it was guarding!" Everyone turned to look at Carver as he disappeared behind a wall a few paces away. Following, they found a small, red room lined with piles of gold and treasure.

"Holy shit." Hawke clapped Varric on the back, and ran to her brother.

The two immediately began arguing as they sifted through the treasure. Varric leaned on the crudely carved doorway, smiling and watching the two siblings. After some time, Fenris joined him in the doorframe, wordlessly watching on.

The dwarf desperately attempted to hide a smile, "So, uh… treasure is nice."

Fenris said nothing, keeping his gaze strictly forward facing. He watched Hawke studying the piles of coin and weapons. Her cheeks had not completely paled from her earlier exertion, and she was still covered in cuts and dirt. She touched her bloodied lip gently while considering a few items in front of her.

His adrenalin had yet to calm. For the second time, Fenris had been sure that he had been about to lose Hawke. Her presence in his life was becoming less of a casual preference more of a physical necessity. A feeling he was not entirely fond of.

Had he left the clutches of one master only to attach himself to another? He knew that was unfair, Hawke had no interest in controlling him; she had proven that time and time again. Even so, Fenris had found himself increasingly willing to sacrifice his principles for the woman.

_The mage._

Subconscious or not, was it safe for him to continue to work with someone he was so affected by if he could not learn to control his emotions? A heavy weight settled in his chest.

* * *

Anders eventually turned back up, and after healing and stocking as much at they could possibly carry, the group found a mostly cleared passage from the room. Only about an hour more of travel further, they stumbled upon freshly abandoned stocks of extra poultices and rations. A clear sign others had used the same passage recently.

Varric was aimlessly sifting through crates when he found a shipping order. He picked up the dirty paper, and was just able to make out the Tethras signee beneath the stains and grime.

"Bartrand." Varric spat, crumpling up the paper and turning to look at Hawke, "I'd say this is our way back."

She halted her exploration, "How long, do you think?"

"If we're unlucky? Maybe a week." Varric shrugged.

"And if we're lucky?" Hawke tilted her head at her friend.

"We stumble over Bartrand's corpse on the way. "

Hawke and Varric laughed as she placed her arm around the dwarf, and they walked into the unknown.

* * *

As they made their way into more frequently used passages, they found more supplies and were eventually stocked as well as could be expected for scavengers. One particularly lucky evening Carver and Hawke found a large, unopened cask.

"Andraste's tits! Carver, ale!" Hawke yelled over to her brother, as she pushed debris away from the large, untapped cask.

Carver's head popped up from a broken and abandoned caravan, "Better than what I've got." He dropped his collection of Vellum and iron rings, and joined his sister.

Together they began to lug the heavy barrel back to camp.

"So…. Your pet elf?" Carver asked between huffs, as he strained beneath the weight of the ale.

Hawke remained silent, focusing on her breathing, and not her burning muscles.

"Mother's heart might give out, you know." He joked.

"I don't even know what you're talking about." Hawke feigned disinterest, she also couldn't help but remember the look on the elf's face as he had pushed himself away from her. Fenris hadn't said much in the few days since Hawke's battle with the rock wraith, and she was becoming increasingly confused by the elf.

This time Carver remained silent, turning his head around to give his sister an unimpressed look.

"He's so… angry. Like all the time." Carver complained.

Hawke laughed, "and lets not forget he's being hunted by a Tevinter Magister."

"Maker. I had forgotten." His tone was uncertain. "You're not serious about him, are you?"

Hawke grinned and shook her head, "Carver, you're making a lot of assumptions."

"Well, someone needs to look out for you every once and a while."

"You're just jealous he's my friend, but still doesn't give you the time of day." Hawke smirked, spying an embarrassed blush on the back of Carver's neck.

"Well, it is a bit rude, isn't it? I mean we both have a lot in common, and lets not forget you two almost killed each other when you first met."

Hawke continued laughing at her brother until they reached camp.

"Please tell me you found food." Varric was lounging against a large rock near the fire.

"Better. Ale!" Hawke shouted from behind Carver.

Varric cheered, and they broke open the cask. Soon, they were all relaxed and laughing, reclining around a warm fire.

* * *

"Okay, okay, I've got one," Varric waved his hands to silence everyone, "Would you rather have everyone _think_ you had sex with a nug, but be innocent, or actually have sex with a nug, but no one knows?"

"Secret sex with a nug." Hawke responded without pause, sending Varric and Anders into a fit of amusement, and her brother crying out in disgust.

"Really?"

Hawke shrugged her shoulders, shaking in laughter.

"Okay, I've got another one." Varric tried to catch his breath, "would you rather be able to make an ancient rock demon explode or would you rather make an ancient rock demon explode?"

"I'm going to have to go with be able to make an ancient rock demon explode." Anders answered.

Hawke smacked her face with her palm.

"Seriously, what happened?" Anders leaned forward, inquisitive.

"I…" all eyes watched Hawke intently as she tried to explain, "I really don't know."

Everyone let out exasperated groans.

"I don't!" Hawke held up her hands in defense, "I was trying to keep it from skewering me, and before I knew it, I was under a pile of rubble." _It also spoke to me. In my mind. Said some stuff about monsters. But lets not mention that right now._

"I could sense your magic a bit, it felt different… stronger, untrained almost." Anders looked to be lost in thought as if he were running through all of the possibilities.

"It felt a little like that." Hawke agreed. The group sat in silence, only the crackling fire interrupting the dark.

"I wonder if the lyrium down here is affecting your powers? Charging them too much perhaps…" Anders trailed off in thought.

Hawke looked towards Fenris, he looked to be keenly studying his hands in his lap, a small crease in his brow.

"Well, whatever happened, you saved our asses yet again, fearless leader." Varric raised his mug to Hawke.

They fell back into casual conversation. Eventually, Hawke wandered away from the group, aimlessly inspecting the extraordinary caverns that surrounded them.

* * *

Fenris waited for a while, partially listening to the conversation at hand, partially considering Hawke. He couldn't help, but think about her nightmares and wonder if there was a connection, and what that could mean. Would he be able to act accordingly if needed? For the first time in his life, he wasn't entirely sure, and that terrified him. Just another example of how much the mage had changed him in such a short amount of time.

Standing, he followed the direction Hawke had disappeared, and found her studying a caved-in passage.

Hawke began speaking to him without turning around, "Can you imagine what this must have looked like when this place was in its prime? Say what you will about dwarves, but they were pretty savvy with architecture."

Fenris stopped next to her, examining the same passage, "Indeed."

He was unsure how to best proceed and decided a blunt approach would be the most effective. "Do you think it unwise to keep your nightmares a secret… considering recent events?"

Hawke turned to face him, "Judging by your tone I can see that you do."

"You are an intelligent women, you know the dangers." Fenris deflected her accusation.

He watched her cross her arms over her chest defensively, "Its really no one else's business."

"It will become everyone's business, should the worst come to pass." Her lack of willingness to admit the potential threat, kindled an irritating itch in the back of his mind.

"It must be exhausting living in constant fear of magic, Fenris."

Fenris could see that he had offended Hawke. However, he was growing too vexed to care. He could not allow himself to be swayed from something he felt so strongly; he needed to prove that he was still in control. So he continued to push,

"I simply live in reality, Hawke. You think yourself invincible because you've lived a life of what can only be described as a series of dumb-luck."

She froze, looking like she had been slapped, before pressing forward. "I get by on skill, and hard work, elf. It also helps that I know how to make and keep company for longer than a fortnight."

He knew that last part was directed at him, and the personal attack only his temper further, "Yet you would risk them all by continuing to ignore what is clearly a problem."

"The only thing I am ignoring is you, because there is no problem to address!" Hawke threw up her arms, before pushing a finger into Fenris's chest, and continuing, "I would rather die than needlessly risk a single one of my companions, Fenris. If you don't understand that, then you don't know me at all." Fenris could see how upset Hawke had become, but her ignorance only added to his annoyance.

"Don't slight yourself or me." Fenris returned the pressure, "and don't allow your… _curse_ destroy the lives around you."

The word slipped out of his mouth without thinking, and the impact it had on Hawke was palpable. Her eyes widened in hurt before immediately narrowing in anger. Fenris regretted the choice almost immediately, but before he could open his mouth to redact his statement, a fist found its way to his jaw.

His markings flared in surprise and pain. Without pause, he dove forward, grabbing Hawke's arms and pinning her to the wall behind her. She struggled against him, only encouraging his grip to tighten. He knew it would leave bruises on her exposed forearms, but couldn't find a reason to care. He was not a pawn in someone else's life.

He vaguely noticed she had lifted her legs from the ground. Using his hold on her as leverage, she hung from her arms, and hooked her feet behind his legs. Before he could react, she jerked her feet towards herself. The resulting force bent his knees involuntarily and he quickly lost his balance, tumbling backwards and bringing Hawke with him.

They hit the ground hard and continued to struggle, Hawke triumphantly atop of Fenris. He grunted, quickly twisting their weight, and sending Hawke to the ground. Now he was straddling the mage. She let out a cry of frustration, and simultaneously pushed her arms out and toward the ground.

With all of his weight put into his grip, Fenris lost his balance once more and fell forward as Hawke slammed her head into his own. Both cried out and pain, and he released her arms. They rolled away from one another, grasping their injured skulls.

After a moment, Fenris turned to look at Hawke, who sat with her profile to him, still rubbing her sore head. He opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke first.

"Look, I thought we had figured this out… I thought we were…" she paused looking for a word, "…friends. If this has all been some sort of misguided attempt to repay us for helping you out, consider your debt fulfilled."

Was she saying she wanted him to leave?

"Hawke, I—" Fenris began before she interrupted him.

"Its okay, you've more than repaid the kindness. With the gold we're bringing in, when we get back, you can go wherever you want." She stood up, dusting off her pants, wearing an unnatural mask of calm on her face. She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead turned around and walked toward the camp without another look back.

Fenris moaned, holding his aching head in his hands. What she had said was true. There was nothing keeping him from leaving Kirkwall, especially now that he had coin. Did he really want to leave? That was the more prudent question. One that was getting harder to answer every day.

* * *

Anders had been about to follow Hawke when the elf had gone instead. He was glaring at the broody warrior, deciding whether or not to follow anyway when his attention was pulled to Carver.

He looked over to Hawke's brother, catching him examining something on his leg beneath a dirty cloth. When Carver saw Ander's looking towards him, the warrior hastily covered up whatever it was he was studying.

By nature, Anders was too curious not to pry. "Carver? What are you doing?" he narrowed his eyes mischievously at the man who was so clearly hiding something.

"Nothing, you mangy mage. Mind your own business."

"Oh, but why would I do that when your business seems so much more compelling?" Anders crossed his arms grinning, and approached the warrior.

"Go. Away." Carver turned away from him.

"Come on, we're friends aren't we?" Anders appealed.

"We are definitely not." He replied tonelessly.

"Deep crawlers!" Anders suddenly shouted, pointing behind Carver. The warrior immediately reached for his great sword, removing his hands from whatever he was concealing.

Anders's smile widened triumphantly, and almost as quickly disappeared when he saw what the warrior had been hiding.

Carver froze as he felt the fabric fall from his leg, exposing his gruesome injury.

Anders looked between the festering wound and Carver's face, with a moment of confusion before he felt it. That familiar, sickly call.

"You've been corrupted."

"I… I don't know."

"I do." Anders had assumed the feeling had been due to the Deep Roads, but being that close to the blood was sending his senses into overdrive. There was no mistaking it. "You must tell your sister."

"Oh great, at Death's door and the first piece of advice I get concerns Hawke. Her shadow will follow me to the grave."

"Don't be an idiot. She'll want to know, and to help you."

"Can I be helped?" He looked up at Anders.

The mage hesitated, "…Maybe."

The sound of someone approaching caused both of them to jump.

"Not a word, mage." Carver whispered, throwing a threatening glare at Anders. He simply shook his head, and returned to his spot at the edge of the fire, unsure of what to do regarding the young warrior.

The noise was soon revealed to be Hawke stomping onto the scene, looking slightly disheveled, and thoroughly disinterested in speaking. She sat towards the back wall of their camp, alone. Fenris followed not too long after, setting up away from the group.

The four sat in heavy silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

Varric sighed contently as he relieved himself off the edge of a steep crag, and into the lava below.

Not only was he pleasantly drunk, but the passages were finally beginning to look familiar. The dwarf was feeling good about their ever-increasing odds of survival.

He whistled as he tied his pants, running ideas through his head for his next novel.

_Maybe something about Aveline?_

He tried to think of what would embarrass the Guard Captain the most.

_A romance. _

Varric could barely contain his glee as he headed back to camp, brainstorming his new erotic romance novel; Ravaini was going to love it.

He returned to the camp in high spirits only to see everyone sitting at opposite ends of the fire, glaring at one another, and brimming with an almost humorously intense tension.

"What'd I miss?"

* * *

"Alright, this part of the Deep Roads really looks familiar!" Anders heard Hawke ahead, and looked up to watch her as she scanned the room.

"We're almost back where we started. And in only five days. Not bad!" Varric moved to stand next to her.

Anders looked at Carver, hearing the warriors labored breath next to him, "Think we could… take a break? I feel… wrong."

Hawke looked back at them over her shoulder, "We can rest for a bit if our delicate flower needs it."

"I'll wager it was those deep mushrooms we found." Varric laughed, "I told you junior, wait until Kirkwall and Ravaini will get you the good stuff."

Carver collapsed, "No…. its" he swayed dangerously and Anders knelt down quickly, steading him.

"…Carver?" Hawke turned around fully and walked towards her brother, crouching next to Anders.

"It's the blight…" Anders spit it out before he could stop himself, "I can sense it." He looked to Hawke apologetically.

"Shut up." Carver bit back at Anders.

"Maker! Why didn't you say anything?" she looked from her brother to Anders, horrified, "You knew, and said nothing?"

"It wasn't my place…" the argument was weak and Anders knew it.

"Nug-shit! He's my brother, he's all I have!" Hawke choked back tears, and her face reddened with anger. Anders could feel her magic pulsing hazardously, watching as she tried to help her brother stand, "We need to get to the surface. We need to find help." She was moving too quickly, not thinking clearly. Carver crumpled beneath his own weight, and Hawke struggled to pick him up again.

"I'm not going to make it. Not to the surface, not anywhere." Carver looked up at his sister, "It's getting worse."

"There might be something we can do." Anders finally spoke up, causing everyone to look towards him. "I stole those maps we used from a Warden that had come to Kirkwall. They were planning their own expedition into the Deep Roads."

"Get to the point Anders." Hawke pushed.

"If the Wardens are here, I know where. We could bring Carver to them." Anders finished quickly, looking between the two siblings.

"And what? Become a Grey Warden?" Carver's head was beginning to loll.

"I don't understand. Is that a cure?" Hawke looked at Anders, still keeping her grip on her brother.

Anders hesitated; there was so much he could not say, "Yes. I suppose it is. But its not without a price… one not everyone is willing to pay." He looked down, almost feeling shame at making the suggestion when he so familiarly knew the consequences.

"Anders, drop the theatrics." Hawke was clearly not feeling patient.

"The process of becoming a Warden is… unpleasant. And irreversible." Anders looked to Carver before turning back to Hawke, "it also means you might never see your brother again." he heard her release a constricted breath before silencing herself, and Anders continued, "He might survive the blight, but at the cost of becoming a Grey Warden. It's not an easy life. Trust me."

"You got away." Anders could hear Hawke grasping for hope.

"You think I got away? Eventually they or the Circle will drag me back. I've got no illusions about that." He looked deeply into Hawke's eyes, trying as hard as he could to convey his regret.

"Well at least you're not a complete idiot." Fenris murmured from the back, but was largely ignored.

Anders studied Hawke as she looked around with uncertainty.

Finally she spoke, nervously running her free hand through her hair, "Is this even possible? How does someone become a Grey Warden?"

He winced; of course she'd asked the first question from a long list of questions he could not answer. Instead he reached a hand to her shoulder, "I can't tell you." He looked down at Carver, "But it's not something you can undo once its done. Even if you want to."

"This just keeps sounding better and better…" Carver leaned back, threatening to fall over.

Hawke's face hardened, "If there's even a chance, we must take it."

* * *

Hawke's mind was racing as she followed behind Anders, supporting her brother with the help of Fenris. The mage held up his hand, signaling the group to stop.

"What's wrong?" Hawke tried to peer past him.

"I think they might be near…" She watched him turn his head, focusing intently. An unnatural shriek sounded ahead, "Or, it could be darkspawn." He finished.

Luckily, the cluster of darkspawn was small, so even one warrior down, the battle was quick. Everyone took a moment to catch their breath before continuing.

"Anders?" An unfamiliar voice sounded from the distance. Hawke looked up to see a small group of men in Grey Warden uniforms approach.

"Fancy meeting you here, Stroud." Anders straightened up, placing his staff on his back, and walked forward to meet them.

"I could say the same." Stroud crossed his arms, "I though you were through fighting darkspawn?"

"Actually, I came looking for you."

Hawke helped Carver stagger forward. He was sweating and pale, draped around her neck.

"You mean… the boy as a recruit?" the man raised his brows at Anders, "Of course you do." He sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I'm not a _boy_." Carver struggled to speak.

"I'm sorry." Stroud bowed his head towards them, "I know this comes as no comfort to you, but we do not recruit Grey Warden's out of pity. It is no kindness."

"Stroud, trust me when I say this one is worth your time." Anders insisted, "Besides, with the Blight over, you Warden's don't have recruits lining up."

"This could be a death sentence." The Warden looked seriously at Anders.

"He'll die anyway. Take him and try… I'm asking you." Anders tried one last appeal.

Stroud, sighed, giving in. "If the boy comes, he comes now, and you may not see him again. Being a Grey Warden is not a cure. It is a calling." He said the last part to Carver.

"Are you sure about this?" Carver looked up at his sister, wary.

Hawke felt like she was going to implode. Her throat constricted tightly, and her eyes burned as she watched her dying brother, hanging helplessly onto her. "No… but we have to try."

"We must move quickly if we are to make the surface in time." Stroud interjected.

"Then I guess… this is it." Carver spoke between labored breaths to Hawke, "Take care of mother."

Her jaw tightened, she gave him a curt nod, not trusting her voice any longer. The Wardens stepped forward and took Carver.

Hawke watched in silence as they disappeared, taking her brother with them.

* * *

**Hey beautiful people! I'm sorry its been so long! I decided to take some summer semester classes last minute and was not expecting the intensity of the workload. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter at least, I am going to try my best to get back on track posting more regularly. **

**As always, thank you so so so much for reading and following (some even favoriting!) my story, its so exciting and humbling to get to share this creation with you. Also, an especially heartfelt thank you to my lovely reviewers! I always remind myself that ya'll are waiting for an update, and I can't let you down! It really helps keep me focused and excited to continue! **

**I hope everyone is doing well! **


	9. Chapter 9

_Hawke,_

_How are you? Hope all is well. Things are good here, I suppose. Anders was right; Grey Warden legends do fail to mention a few things. I've yet to do anything remotely glorious or honorable since arriving. In fact, most of it is painful, dirty, often horrific work. _

_I… can't stop thinking about how I got here. No matter what I accomplish, you'll still be the one who set me on this path. The choice has been, yet again, made for me…Stop rolling your eyes. I can almost see it as I'm writing this. _

_The positive is that I'm alive, and hopefully part of something greater. I've a chance to prove myself. Maybe I'll even escape this shadow one day. All I have to do is outshine the Hero of Ferelden… ender of the fifth Blight. No big deal. _

_Say hello to Mother and Gamlen for me… and Merrill, assuming she's still around. I hope they're all well._

_-Carver_

Hawke set the old letter in her lap; she had read it at least fifty times since receiving it. She missed her brother, and constantly warred over whether or not she made the right decision. Carver was alive, but at what price? She had been trying to research the Wardens since turning her brother over, but to almost no avail.

The one thing she had discovered was that they had no interest in really being discovered, at all. Every part of their past and present was shrouded in mystery, and Hawke had pushed her brother into their arms. Still, she couldn't be upset that Craver was alive, and relatively unchanged, if his whining was any indication. A reminiscent smile played across her face, but quickly faded as she looked around the silent and empty estate.

Despite the tragedy however, the past few moths had been kind to her since their return from the Deep Roads. She was rich, her friends were rich, and she had piled enough tasks on her plate to keep herself busy, and thus, far away from the idle thoughts that haunted her.

As expected, Leandra had been heartbroken by the news of Carver, resulting in a widening rift between the two. However, she was clearly pleased to be back in their ancestral home, settling into her old life; at least Hawke had been able to give her that. Unfortunately with nothing else to worry about, Leandra had become mostly focused on securing Hawke's marriage to a nobleman. Sadly, after an unexplained incident with fire, and a man leaving their home in tears, she had been less than successful in her efforts.

True to his word, Bodahn and his son were repaying Hawke, despite her reservations; they had signed themselves on to the Hawke Estate, mostly managing the household. Even with her discomfort, Hawke couldn't help but appreciate the company they offered in the cavernous mansion. She had recently been especially thankful for their presence in the absence of her friends. Their triumphant and unexpected return from the Deep Roads had kept all of her companions equally, if not busier, than Hawke, leaving little opportunity for their usual antics.

Aveline was hard working as ever as the most successful Guard Captain Kirkwall had seen in years. The warrior had also finally found herself in a relationship with one of her Guardsmen, Donnic. Hawke couldn't help but smile at the memory of her disastrous courting attempt. Aveline had gone through the void and back again, fighting tooth and nail over the past two years, and if anyone deserved happiness it was her. She was family, down to the frequent nagging and provoking, and Hawke was proud to be her morally ambiguous sister. She only hope the fervent woman didn't work herself to death, and everything else would be fine.

Merrill had notably deflated upon the news of Carver's fate, retreating further into her mirror, only turning up sparingly to the Hanged Man. Hawke's worry for her friend increased daily. It wasn't that she didn't trust Merrill; she simply didn't trust what she was playing with, and often found herself unable to fully support her endeavor.

Isabella had been relentlessly following a lead she was keeping uncharacteristically mute about. The pirate wasn't exactly known for her subtly, and Hawke couldn't help but worry that she was finding herself in deeper trouble than she was letting on.

Varric chose to deal with his concerns much the same way that Hawke had: through ale and working nonstop, while Anders was kept busy at his long-neglected clinic. The mage had also been falling further and further into his obsession with the mage plight, sometimes disappearing for a week at a time, furiously scribbling his manifesto.

Fenris had all but completely departed from Hawke's day-to-day life, and she was surprised by how much she missed him. He would sometimes show up for nights at the Hanged Man, but mostly their interactions had been tactful and infrequent unless he was helping with a job. Beyond that, Hawke had been so busy between investigating her dreams and getting her family set up in Hightown, that she hadn't really tried to fix it. After all, she had been the one who had encouraged him to leave.

_After he had referred to my magic as a curse._

She reminded herself, but truthfully she was pleased he had ignored her suggestion. She was also slowly forcing herself to come to terms with the fact that while his concerns had been poorly expressed, they had not been entirely misplaced.

"Another letter for you, messere." Bodahn knocked on the door before slightly opening it.

"Thanks Bodahn." The dwarf nodded his head in return as he back out of the room.

The letter was from the Viscount, thanking her for her assistance. Both the Viscount and the Arishok had become disquietingly comfortable with the habit of calling on her to solve city matters. She wasn't exactly sure when she had transformed from vagrant sword-for-hire to diplomat, but it was definitely not done intentionally. Still, since her return, she had 'saved' the viscount's son and stopped an attempted terrorist attack with fake Qunari poison. Not exactly the way to achieve the anonymity she dreamed about.

She heard Bodahn greeting Varric in the hall, and rose from her chair to meet him in the main room. When her friend saw her, he took an elaborate bow.

"Does the madam require more time to prepare herself?"

Hawke ignored the dwarf, gathering her shoes and weapons.

"Where's your lovely mother?" Varric asked at a suspiciously loud volume. He had been trying to butter Leandra up for months now, but the woman wasn't having any of it. As far as her mother was concerned, everyone in the Deep Roads had been equally responsible for Carver. At least the woman was consistent.

"Don't bother, she's out," Hawke waived her hand at her friend, sitting on a bench to dress herself, "Since she has so far failed at giving me away, she's begun dating instead."

"Well, good for her."

"Definitely, it's also proved very distracting, which is another bonus." She began strapping her weapons to various parts of her body. "Say, you wouldn't be interested in marrying me, would you? We can put all this sexual tension to rest, and get on with our lives?"

"No thank you." He laughed at Hawke attempt at a wounded expression, "You're too tall for my taste. That and, Bianca doesn't like to share, you know that." He stroked his crossbow, "Besides, I'd rather stay on the good side of a certain menacing elf we all know."

Hawke looked up from lacing her boot to give Varric an un-amused look.

He held up his hands defensively, "I'm not saying anything…. Except that you're both pathetic."

"I don't even know what you're talking about. We've barely spoken since getting back."

"Put your head in the sand if you want, my friend, but the truth is the truth."

She sighed, standing and stretching her arms above her head, "Why is it you're only insistent on telling the truth when its something I don't want to hear?"

"Because Hawke, that is when you need to hear it the most."

They left the estate together, heading towards Darktown. Anders had asked them for their help regarding some distressing Templar rumors. Hawke worried for her friend, he seemed to be falling deeper and deeper into his hatred with every day that passed, but she wouldn't ignore his worries. She believed in his intentions, she just didn't believe in his methods. These types of situations were always difficult waters to navigate with a friend.

"I could have met you at the Hanged man, you know?" Hawke offered as they made their way through the bustling streets of Hightown.

"I was up here already. Visiting Aveline."

She looked over at him, "And by 'visiting' you mean asking her for something illegal?"

"Hawke, just because the law hasn't caught up with my genius yet, does not necessarily mean its illegal."

* * *

Hawke hoped Varric didn't run into troubling finding the young mage safe passage from Kirkwall. He had left Hawke to deal with Anders. She approached the mage's clinic cautiously. Her friend's meltdown in the caves had been alarming, but not altogether unexpected. As the tensions between the Kirkwall mages and Templars had been ever heightening, so had the tension between Anders and Justice. The lines that divided the two were blurring more with every passing day, and Hawke was at a complete loss for what do to. She desperately wanted to help Anders any way that she could, but was worried that she might be too late. His blind attack towards the innocent mage girl only further revealed how far the man had fallen.

The small light that was usually lit above the clinic's door had been extinguished, but Hawke could see a dim light glowing beneath the bottom of the entry.

She knocked first, but was met with silence. Placing her ear directly to the door she could hear a shuffling clamor inside. Slowly pushing open the door, she stuck her head in,

"Anders?"

The mage was hastily running back and forth across the room, manically packing anything he could get his hands on. Chairman Meow sat patiently atop an already crammed suitcase.

"Anders?" She repeated his name when he failed to respond, moving completely into the room and shutting the door behind her.

"What are you doing?"

He finally ceased packing, but didn't turn around to face her.

"I have to go, Hawke. I have to get out of here." His shoulders were slumped in defeat.

"Anders, you can't leave. If you're gone, people might start to realize I'm almost as crazy as you are." she tried to joke with the man unsuccessfully.

"Maker Hawke, I almost killed that girl. A mage I swore to protect. I…. I don't have control any more. I don't want to hurt anyone." He finally turned to face her, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not going to hurt anyone. We all make mistakes, this was a big one, but in the end you won, not Justice."

He quickly approached Hawke, stopping right in front of her, "You don't understand. There is nothing to fix, the battle has already been won. This is who I am now." He gestured to himself, "Justice and I are one, and I have twisted him into something unlike what he was before. I cannot continue to place those around me in danger." He lifted a hand awkwardly, brushing back a loose strand of hair from Hawke's face.

She unintentionally flinched away from the touch, but immediately regretted the move when she saw the broken look on his face.

Trying to make up for the reflex, she reached out a hand, grasping for his arm, "We're in this together. You're not alone."

There was a long moment of silence, Hawke steadily holding his gaze. Before she realized what was happening, Anders pulled his arms towards himself, bringing Hawke and her lips to his own in a hard kiss.

Hawke froze in shock, an image of Fenris flashed in her mind, bringing further questions to the already complicated situation. She quickly pushed herself away.

"Anders…" she was red with embarrassment, and confusion. The man stood there dejected, clearly aware of the mistake he had just made.

"Anders, I don't…" She had been so stunned by the action, she was at a loss for what to say.

She could see the red rising up Anders's face as well, as his mortification began to manifest itself.

"Hawke, I'm sorry. I just thought…" neither one of them seemed able to complete a sentence.

She turned away, rubbing her face and putting some distance between them. The silence was excruciating. Hawke shook off the remainder of her discomfort and turned back towards the man, coming to stand directly in front of him again.

"Anders, you're one of my best friends, but…"

"It's okay, I shouldn't have— I'm sorry, Hawke." Anders finished quietly, letting her know she didn't need to continue her thought.

She watched his face as he carefully avoided her gaze, "You're one of my best friends, I want to help you. Please don't leave."

He finally met her eyes, "I won't."

Hawke pulled him into a tight hug, hoping to convey everything she felt, but couldn't say.

* * *

The comparatively fresh air in Lowtown was a welcome reprieve from the stale air of Darktown, clearing Hawke's jumbled thoughts. Not only had Anders's sudden move been jarring and unexpected, but her mind's immediate retreat to Fenris was becoming a habit that was increasingly hard to ignore.

Before long, she found herself knocking on Merrill's door in the Alienage. The Dalish elf had requested Hawke's presence earlier that evening, and she was eager to distract herself from her current stressors.

Merrill was her usual, lovable and awkward self. Rushing around aimlessly, trying to act out the role of hostess for an exhausted Hawke.

"Merrill. Really. It's okay. You don't need to fuss." Hawke tried to calm her nervous friend, "What did you want to show me?"

"Right. Right." The elf finally stopped hurrying around her home, and motioned for Hawke to follow her into the small bedroom off the side of the main room.

There, Hawke came face-to-face with what appeared to be Merrill's completed mirror.

"It's almost finished." Merrill presented the Eluvian to her friend.

Hawke approached the strange object with intrigue. It was beautiful, but she still didn't understand its purpose. That, and the fear and animosity it had twisted within Merrill's clan, were enough to make Hawke uneasy with her friend's experiments. Still, standing this close, something about the mirror was oddly enticing to Hawke, encouraging her to step closer. Buried somewhere in her mind, she felt like she had seen it before.

Merrill studied the mirror from further back,

"Something is missing. It won't work. I've tried everything."

"Yeah, there's no reflection." Hawke came to stand in front of the Eluvian.

Merrill laughed a little, "It's not that kind of mirror."

"Well, what's it supposed to do?"

"I… don't really know. Back in the days of Arlathan, every kingdom had one. They used it to communicate, I think. I just don't know how."

"Then how do you know its not working?"

"It's not that it's broken, but it's missing something maybe? A… switch or a key." Merrill put her hand on her chin, lost in thought.

The closer Hawke moved to the mirror, the stronger the sense of familiarity became. Without thinking, she reached out her hand to touch the object. Upon contact, a shimmering light appeared beneath her fingers, and rippled gently like water around her hand.

Merrill gasped, and Hawke jerked her hand back in surprise.

"Is that what it's supposed to do?" She turned to look at her friend, who was watching in stunned silence, mouth agape.

"I... I don't… I'm not sure. It's never done that before. What did you do?"

Merrill walked forward, examining the mirror, reaching her hand out to elicit a similar reaction, but the mirror remained lifeless.

"Do it again." She turned eagerly to Hawke.

Hawke cautiously repeated the act to similar results, and Merrill excitedly circled her, taking mental notes of everything that was occurring.

The mirror would light up and become slightly pliable in a small area around wherever Hawke made contact, but nothing further. Luring Hawke with whiskey, Merrill had made her repeat the process over and over again. Eventually, she convinced her friend to let her go, but not before promising to come back for more 'research'.

As Hawke was about to exit the shack, she turned back to her friend, "Merrill, let's just keep this between us for now. Until we understand more, at least."

The elf appeared distracted, and didn't respond.

"Merrill?" Hawke tried again.

"Oh yes, of course. I'll figure this out Hawke. Don't worry. Oh this is so exciting!"

Hawke left the elf's house feeling even further confused than she had felt upon entering it; she had definitely had better nights.

* * *

Instead of heading straight back to the estate, she meandered about the dark, quiet city. As she strolled along aimlessly, she stumbled over something on the ground. Turning around to identify the affronting object she saw a dirty and worn book that must have been accidentally dropped some time during the day. Crouching down, she dusted the dirt from the tattered cover: _The Book of Shartan_.

Again, her mind was brought back to Fenris. If pressed, she might have blamed the whiskey from Merrill or maybe the delirious exhaustion from the day, but in the privacy of her own thoughts, she simply decided she was tired of their stalemate. Picking up the book, she began her ascent to Fenris's mansion, hoping her peace offering would be enough to bridge the gap that had grown between the two.

* * *

Hawke paced grooves into the stone outside the decrepit mansion, nerves suddenly taking over her body now that she faced the elf's door.

What if he denied her offering? What if he was no longer interested in their friendship_? _

_Then that's that, Hawke. Suck it up you nug-humping coward_.

She began to reach for the door when someone spoke, startling her, "Still haven't learned how to knock, I see."

Fenris's low voice called from above her. She looked up, spying his feet hanging from the roof of his mansion. The exact spot she had shown him, what now felt like forever ago.

"What can I say? Guess you can't teach an old dog new tricks." She shrugged.

"Well, by all means, don't let me interrupt your trespassing. I'll meet you inside."

Hawke reached Fenris's room just as he was sliding in through the open window. She stood by the fireplace, thumbing the old book nervously in her hand.

"I have something for you." She announced abruptly, holding out the tome, eager to fill the quiet.

He took the offering cautiously, "Its… a book?"

She couldn't help but crack a smile as she crossed her arms, trying to stifle her discomfort with bad humor, "Good to see your eyes still work."

She ignored his wearied glare, "The book is by Shartan, the elf who helped Andraste free the slaves. You know about him, right?"

"Of course I know about him. What do you take me for?" Fenris moved about the room, away from Hawke. If she didn't know any better, she would have said he seemed embarrassed. Fenris continued to stare down at the book in his hands, and Hawke began to shuffle around, wondering if she had made a mistake.

He finally faced her and continued, "Hawke, do you think they teach slaves to read?"

She could have slapped herself, shamed by how little she understood about his life before Kirkwall. Fighting the urge to run from the room, she was now the one struggling to maintain eye contact.

Fenris sighed at the uncomfortable air, "Ah, ignore me." He turned away and strolled towards the window, "you are not responsible for my... deficiencies. I do appreciate your gift."

This was not going the way Hawke had intended, and she struggled with how to proceed. Three minutes into their first conversation alone in months and she had already done something stupid.

"You know, I could always... teach you. If you're interested, that is." Another pause followed her offer, and she couldn't help but feel like she was just digging a deeper hole for herself.

"Weren't you the one that just said you cannot teach an old dog new tricks?" she could just see the shadows of a small grin on his face.

She let out a breath of relief, "Since when have you ever listened to my advice?"

He laughed at that, moving to fully face her, "I have always wanted to learn more of Shartan. Perhaps this is my chance?"

Silence filled the room once more, and Hawke fought the desire to close the gap between them. Since their return from the expedition, there had been something missing from her life, but here in Fenris's room, she was finally feeling whole.

"Fen—"

"Haw—"

They both spoke at the same time, interrupting each other, and abruptly stopped to allow the other to continue. Hawke gestured for him to go-ahead, having grown anxious she decided to follow his lead, lest she risk more of her fragile pride.

"I've wanted to apologize. For the Deep Roads." He looked like he was searching for the correct words to use when Hawke cut in, hoping to ease the tension,

"I think we both said…and did some things we're not entirely proud of." She thought of her punch to his face.

"Indeed." He answered simply.

The silence continued, but there was a notable decrease of pressure, like a weight had been lifted from her chest.

"So… friends?" Hawke stuck out her hand, and waited.

He allowed a small smile to slip before grasping her hand with his own. The lyrium on his hands ignited, and Hawke relished in the calming effects of the familiar warmth.

Standing in front of Fenris, even in his decaying mansion, was exactly where Hawke wanted to be; Anders and the Eluvian became distant and inconsequential, and for a moment, everything was right again.

* * *

"I am not going." Hawke crossed her arms conclusively.

"Come on. This plan is perfect. Two birds, one stone." Varric attempted to persuade his obstinate friend. "You attend the party, keeping Leandra off your back, and we get to investigate this DuPuis guy."

"Can't I just break into his mansion in the middle of the night like the refugee trash I am?" Hawke joked, desperately trying to appeal to any other option.

When no one was biting, she reluctantly gave in. "Fine, but I'm not going alone." she looked around the room.

"Well, Ravaini is out because… well, she's a dirty pirate."

"You try to start one orgy—" Isabella started before Varric cut her off, "And it would be uncouth for me to show up with a human." He winked at her.

"So Anders will go as your date, without his staff." He looked pointedly at the mage, "And Fenris will pose as your body guard. Ravaini and I will sneak in through the servants quarters and meet you inside."

"Why can I not enter through the servants quarters as well?" Fenris asked, seeming annoyed by his designated role.

"Because... and how do I say this delicately..." Varric looked at Isabella for help, "You lack-"

"Charm." Isabella finished.

"That's the word." Varric pointed at the pirate.

Fenris sat back in his chair, crossing his arms, and Hawke snorted a bit trying not to laugh.

"Oh, don't you be so smug." Varric turned an accusatory gaze on Hawke, "You have to take a bath." Hawke rolled her eyes as he continued, "AND, wear a dress."

She sighed in defeat, "I'm not going shopping."

"Oh, I was hoping you would say that." Isabella clapped her hands together, "Because I already have."

"Oh Maker. That might be worse." Hawke immediately regretted her previous lament.

"Too late! And wipe that pitiful look off your face. I will put you in a dress, even if it means waiting for your corps to cool."

* * *

The week passed quickly, and soon the night of DuPuis's party had arrived. Hawke's companions were waiting in the main hall, including those that weren't attending the festivities. Once Aveline and Merrill had caught wind that Hawke would be wearing a dress they quickly offered to bring ale, commemorating the likely once-in-a-lifetime occasion. Hawke wasn't sure where her aversion had stemmed from, but she just couldn't help but feel insecure in formal dresses and make-up. She knew it was ridiculous, but they made her even more aware of the role she would never fill for her mother. Even though the wardrobe was more like a costume, she was somehow left feeling more unmasked than in her regular attire.

Hawke looked into her mirror one last time, fidgeting nervously. Her hair had been washed and lightly curled, laying in soft waves down one shoulder. Trying to remember Bethany's instructions, Hawke applied some mascara and a little eyeliner, finishing with painted red lips. The make-up was subtle, but her habitual avoidance of the products made the small alterations seem dramatic.

She grudgingly had to admit that the dress was surprisingly beautiful for the pirate's taste, and as a bonus, comfortable. It was floor-length and cut from a deep red silk. The bodice fit agreeably, with a bateau neckline in the front. The fitted sleeves began just off her shoulders, and were styled into sharp points just below her elbows. Her back was almost completely bared until the silky fabric gathered again at her waist, flowing delicately down her legs and creating a slight train behind her.

She had drawn the line at jewelry when her mother had accosted her with large heirloom necklaces and earrings. Instead, she had settled for a delicate golden chain wrapped around her wrist that also connected a fine chain to her middle finger.

She turned around, looking at every angle in the mirror, feeling over exposed. With the dress's design, she was only able to conceal a dagger on her thigh, and though she didn't expect trouble, Hawke knew that she somehow always attracted it.

Her mother interrupted her worries, "I'm so pleased you've decided to go, Marion." She was fussing with Hawke's dress and hair, attempting to attach more pins and bobbles as her daughter continued to shift away. "I wouldn't have made other plans if I knew you would be attending!"

Hawke had purposely left her mother out, both to discourage matchmaking and to keep her safe should events go awry. Luckily, Leandra had yet another date with her mysterious suitor, so Hawke hadn't needed to worry.

Leandra finally stepped back to look at her, "Marion, you look just lovely." Slowly, her smile faded and her eyes became unfocused, "Your sister would have adored something like this. She always loved any excuse to dress up, though I suppose we never really had many reasons in Lothering."

After a moment, her mother shook her head a little and smiled again, her eyes fixing back on Hawke, "You and Carver however, I could never seem to ever get out of the mud."

Hawke reached out to her mother, and they shared a quick hug. She and Leandra had a complicated relationship, but they loved each other, and now they were all the other had left. After another passing moment of silence, Leandra cleared her throat, needlessly smoothing out Hawke's dress, "Now dear, are you sure you do not want a necklace? This dress is very plain."

* * *

When Hawke descended the staircase, the room fell quiet until Varric broke the silence, "Holy shit, Hawke." The dwarf laughed.

"Language, Varric!" Leandra's voice warned from somewhere upstairs.

"Sorry, Messare!" Varric apologized over Isabella's snickering.

"Oh! Hawke, you look beautiful!" Merrill was of course the first to make a civil comment to Hawke, who was squirming uncomfortably in front of the discerning gaze of her friends.

She smiled gratefully at her friend before she caught Fenris's expression and had to look away, fearing she might turn the exact shade as her dress. He had been staring at Hawke already; green eyes wide and mouth parted just enough for her to notice, succeeding in sending an inexplicable electric shock through her body.

"That doesn't seem tactically sound…" Aveline circled her friend, considering the thin fabric.

"Oh, shut-up you old wench." Isabella nudged the warrior out of the way, walking towards Hawke with a mug of ale. Hawke took the drink gratefully.

"Well, this should be fun."

* * *

Unfortunately for Hawke, her reluctant but recurrent involvement in the city's politics along with Leandra's sudden return and ascent into Kirkwall's high society, had marked the family as a point of interest for many. Thus, Hawke's appearance at the party drew immediate attention that showed few signs of letting up any time soon. A group immediately cornered her and Anders, while Fenris took to the shadowed edges of the room. She was only partially listening to the conversation, draining flutes of champagne like they might run out, and keeping her eye out for the host and target: Gascard DuPuis.

"Dear, you really must tell me where you got him." A woman gushed to Hawke, pulling her from her thoughts.

"I'm sorry?" Hawke hadn't been paying attention to the woman.

"Him." Hawke followed the woman's long painted nail to where it pointed, at Fenris in the corner. The woman continued to prattle on, "He is just positively delicious." She lowered her voice, feigning a scandalous tone, "and so well behaved. You hear horror stories about unchecked elves, like the riots in Denerim—"

Hawke began to swell in anger as soon as she understood what the woman was saying; the pulsing in her ears and neck increased as the overly perfumed woman continued speaking. Anders must have seen the dangerous look in Hawke's eye because before she could move or respond, he swooped in.

"Pardon me, my lady," he bowed slightly to the rambling woman Hawke was about to strangle, who blushed in response to Anders's lopsided grin. "I apologize for the interruption, but I must ask Haw— Marion for a dance." He took Hawke's hand, not allowing her to deny his request, and swept off to the dance floor. Hawke could hear the woman's complaints as they disappeared into the crowd,

"How dull. I don't think she spoke a word the entire time—"

"I think choking a noblewoman would draw unwanted attention to our party. Well, more unwanted attention." Anders held tightly to Hawke as they moved through the dance floor, rightly fearing what might happen if she was let free.

"What a bitch." Hawke couldn't shake the irritation of the woman's ignorance.

"They're just idiotic nobles, Hawke. It's a waste of your energy."

They spun about the room in silence before Anders spoke again,

"Fenris is lucky to have earned such loyalty. I hope he deserves it."

"No one should have to put up with that prejudice."

"If only he felt the same way about mages."

Hawke just shrugged her shoulders. Anders wasn't wrong, but it was entirely right either, and there was no point in trying to argue.

After the dance ended, Anders swiftly became distracted by a small group of individuals passionately debating mage rights, and disappeared.

Hawke scanned the room again; she spied Varric in the center of a large crowd, enthralling them with some outlandish tale, and Isabella hovering around the decadent table of food.

"So much for investigating." Hawke scoffed beneath her breath.

Grabbing two flutes of champagne off the next tray that passed, she headed up the grand staircase and onto an empty balcony. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the stuffy party, and the low lights offered some amount of privacy. She had yet to spot their host, and decided some self isolation might be prudent for the wellbeing of the other partygoers. High society was not something Hawke had been raised with, and it was certainly nothing she had any interest in now. Once you tasted the real world, the good and the bad, navigating the over-privileged mess of nobility felt pointless, and Hawke had little tolerance for the show.

She had almost finished her first drink, ready to move onto the next in her opposite hand when a familiar voice spoke behind her.

"Hard at work, I see."

She turned to Fenris. He eyed the two glasses in her hand, raising his brows.

"Trust me, its for their safety just as much as its for my sanity." She leaned back against the stone-carved railing.

"I do not doubt that." Fenris moved to stand next to her, looking out over the lavish courtyard, "I've never understood these affairs."

"Tell me about it. Its just a bunch of people that hate each other showing off in an expensive pissing contest." She looked down at her dress, "That and I feel like a show-pony."

Fenris casually gazed up her dress, resting on her face, "Hawke, I assure you. That dress is the least offensive thing about this celebration."

She couldn't help but crack a smile, leaning onto an elbow, "Pray tell Fenris, was that a compliment?"

"Take it however you wish." He looked back out over the garden, concealing a smirk.

They stood in amicable silence; Hawke stealing glances at Fenris when he wasn't looking. She wasn't sure she had the words to adequately describe how grateful she was to have their rapport back to normal from their disastrous trip to the Deep Roads. Alas, it was also becoming harder to deny the small ball of electricity that pulsed in her stomach each time he was near.

Fenris leaned towards her slightly, "Though it does beg the question: where are you hiding your weapons?" He chided.

She laughed at the question; leaning in further, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He suppressed a laugh, but his fingers reached out to lightly touch the delicate fabric that hung around her legs; a move so restrained Hawke might not have noticed if she were not already feeling hyperaware of his presence.

"Ah, Lady Hawke. Leandra Amell's notorious daughter." An unfamiliar voice with a thick Orlesian accent spoke from the balcony entrance.

"My mother is a Hawke as well, messere." Hawke straightened herself, smoothing her dress and studying the man.

"Of course, forgive me." The man swayed forward, completely ignoring Fenris and extended his hand to Hawke, which she reluctantly accepted, "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Gascard DuPuis." He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it gently without breaking eye contact.

Hawke retracted her hand, "So you're our illustrious host. I was beginning to wonder if you were even here."

The man chuckled, placing his arms behind his back, "Yes, I fear duty calls, even at events such as these. But I must wonder, what is a beautiful woman such as yourself doing out here all alone?" the man continued to disregard Fenris's presence.

"I fear you are mistaken, and interrupting." She gestured to Fenris next to her, who was examining the man coldly.

Gascard laughed again, not even sparing a glance to the elf. "And they say Fereldan's have no sense of humor." Hawke narrowed her eyes at the man.

"Come, will you honor your host with a dance?" The man offered a hand again.

"Unfortunately Monsieur DuPuis, I have just agreed to a dance with Messere Fenris." She took the elf's hand, pulling him past the stunned Orlesian prick and towards the door before pausing to look over her shoulder, "Perhaps later, if I'm not indisposed." she smiled tightly, and without waiting for a response walked away, a confused and surprised Fenris in tow.

"Hawke." Fenris warned lowly, watching the eyes that scrutinized the pair as they moved through the crowded room, "What are you doing?"

She looked over her shoulder with a smile, "I want to dance."

"No, you don't. You want to make a point." He was trying to slow their pace as they neared the floor.

"Can't I do both?"

"Not without starting a riot." He joked.

They finally reached the dance floor, bringing many stares and whispers along with them. Hawke turned to face the elf, who stood firmly in place, making no move towards or away from her.

"Will you deny me one dance, Fenris?" she smiled slyly.

"You will upset the nobles' delicate sensibilities." he warned, but placed a hand on her waist, twisting her hold in his other hand so that he was holding her instead of the other way around.

"Fuck the nobility." She winked at him, eliciting a reluctant grin that threatened to spread across his face as they began to dance around the room.

* * *

**This was kind of a silly, catch-up chapter, but I hope everyone enjoyed it! Sorry its been longer than I wanted it to be [insert school excuse here] but I promise I'm not going to stop! **

**Thank you guys for reading and reviewing, and generally showing such excitement for the story : ) I hope the story continues to live up to everyone's expectations 3**


	10. Chapter 10

Unsurprisingly, Hawke's dance with Fenris had been a larger scandal than the woman they had found gagged and bound in Gascard's wine cellar.

Leandra had been horrified, vowing to never let Hawke attend a celebration without her again. Hawke however, had been immensely pleased by the reaction, which had rewarded her with being blacklisted to many formal events.

She tried to focus on the documents in her hand. They were notes from Aveline's interrogation of DuPuis, and while Hawke would not shed a tear for the pompous man's demise, she wasn't entirely certain he was lying. He claimed to be pursuing the same murderer that Hawke had been after, asserting that he had murdered his sister. Whether or not he was telling the truth, however, he had kidnapped a woman and practiced blood magic. Hawke wasn't going to lose much sleep over it. She heard the bell toll outside and looked over to her clock.

"Shit, I'm late!" she put the notes away and grabbed a pile of books and vellum.

She and Fenris had been working diligently on his reading since she had given him the book of Shartan. As expected, he had already made remarkable progress, beyond that she was also pleased by the extra time with him, free from the prying eyes of others. If her strange dreams and frequent near-death experiences had been teaching Hawke anything, it was that she needed to cherish what she had with those around her. She pulled on a long coat, waving goodbye to Sandal, and headed to Fenris.

* * *

Life was continuing on as normal as was possible in Kirkwall, and Fenris was feeling something akin to contentment, an emotion he never imagined he would get to experience. His fears from the Deep Roads had been foolish, only becoming clear once they had exited the dreadful tombs. The only thing that was controlling Fenris was his fear of being controlled, and he would not lose to himself. Despite Hawke's flaws, she was the one thing in life he could count on. He would not be a slave to his demons and he would not allow her to fall prey to her own.

However, when he was alone, his past continued to haunt him with secrets he had no intention of sharing with anyone else; instead choosing to drown himself in wine and solitude. Unfortunately, he had forgotten about he and Hawke's lesson until he heard the telltale creaking of the door downstairs.

He looked around at the empty wine bottles, and his own disheveled state before continuing to drink the open bottle in his hand. There was no covering up his mess this evening, and in his drunken state, he couldn't find the reasons to care.

Tonight was a tribute, to those who had fallen.

Hawke strolled in the room, arms full of supplies, "Oh Maker. It smells like the Hanged Man in here."

He simply held up his bottle in greeting, "Last bottle of Aggregio, I've been saving it for a special occasion." He passed her the jug.

"And what's that?" He saw her frantically searching her mind for an important date she might have forgotten as she took a swig from the wine.

Hawke was not one for remembering anniversaries or birthdays, but she always tried to make up for it by doing something extravagant for the offended party. Last year she had strung line after line of Seneschal Bran's stolen underwear across the grand entrance of the Viscount's Keep in response to having forgotten Isabela's birthday. Needless to say, she had more than made up for the transgression in the pirate's eyes, and also raised some questions as to Bran's extensive… wardrobe.

"Don't worry, this isn't anything you should know." He watched the obvious relief that washed over her expression, "Today is the anniversary of my escape. Almost four years, and still no sign of Denarius." He took the offered bottle back from Hawke, "I'm beginning to wonder if he's finally given up."

"Don't tell me you miss the attention." She crossed her arms, smiling humorously down at him.

"It's still strange to realize I'm free. I know no other existence; my first memories are these markings being branded into my flesh." She looked surprised at this news, and he was reminded again of how much he avoided speaking about his lyrium markings. "Whatever life I had before I became a slave… it's lost." He saw the sadness in her eyes, the forgotten tomes hanging loosely in her arms. "I apologize. I shouldn't trouble you with this. My problems are not yours." He offered her the wine again.

"As if that has ever stopped anyone before?" she took the bottle and moved to an open chair, "Besides, I've been known to help with problems… or sometimes add on a few more."

He laughed, continuing to study her, "Only a few?"

"It depends if I really work at it."

He shook his head, leaning back against his chair. He didn't know why, but something about the woman always compelled him to share more than he felt he should. He would never admit it openly to the prying dwarf, but he enjoyed the fluttering pressure Hawke elicited from his chest whenever she was near.

"Astia valla femundis. Care to hear the story of my escape?"

"You're lucky I enjoy listening to you talk."

He smiled a little to himself, taking another sip of wine; "There are few pleasures greater than speaking with a beautiful woman."

"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that." She cupped a hand around her ear.

"I don't need to repeat the obvious, I'm certain." He watched with some amount of satisfaction as a blush crept up the woman's neck. Hawke was accustomed to having that effect on others; it was pleasing to turn the cards against her.

He sat back in his chair, "Lets see. You've heard of Seheron? The Imperium and the Qunari have fought over the island for centuries, now."

Hawke nodded, so he continued, "I was there with Denarius during a Qunari attack, I managed to get him to a ship— but there was no room for a slave. So, I was left behind. I barely got out of the city alive."

"Nothing quite like a war to cover an escape, is there?"

"I had no intention of escaping…. That time." She looked at him, seeming puzzled, so he continued.

"There are rebels in the Seheron jungles called Fog Warriors. They found me and took me in, nursed me back to health. I stayed with them for a time. Until Denarius finally came for me."

He saw the growing confusion on Hawke's face, "And you fought back, right?"

He tried to avoid the inevitable question, "I'd grown fond of the rebels. They bowed to no master and fought for their freedom. It was… beyond my experience."

Hawke stretched and yawned sarcastically, "Sounds a lot like someone I know." She smiled impishly, denoting herself.

"Oh, Hawke, we all know your master is a lethal combination of whiskey and pride."

He couldn't help but laugh, but sobered quickly as he studied the almost empty bottle in his hand, remembering the story he needed to finish.

This was the part where the alcohol did nothing to soothe the intense pain and guilt of his actions. Something about Hawke's expression, her belief in his strength, made him hesitate. Did he want to destroy her crafted image of him? He could see her waiting patiently, and knew there was no backing out now. Something inside of himself pushed him to continue the story.

How could he continue to allow Hawke to aid him, and put her life in his hands if she didn't know the truth? If she didn't know everything? They had come so far from almost killing each other on the first night they had met. He wasn't entirely sure how she felt, knowing her penchant to take care of all of her companions, but he was finally coming to accept how he felt. He wanted her there; he wanted her strength, and acceptance. He craved the reminder of freedom that she represented for him. If anyone could help him, it was this strange woman. So, he continued, prepared for what might come.

"When Denarius came, they refused to let him take me." He paused, draining the remainder of the bottle, needing the extra help to get through the next part of his tale. "He ordered me to kill them. So, I did." He watched the confusion and horror that Hawke failed to mask cover her face, and felt his shame increase. "I killed them all."

He scrutinized her reactions as she struggled with what to say next, humor gone. "Wh—, what… why would you do such a thing?"

He was no longer able to maintain eye contact, "It felt inevitable. My master had returned and this, this fantasy life was over. But once it was done… I looked down at their bodies. I felt… I couldn't…"

He stood and paced the room, unable to keep still any longer, "I ran. And never looked back." He finished his tale with his back to Hawke, looking out the window. The silence was thick and heavy, and he prepared himself for the rejection he knew he deserved, but it never came.

"I—" he heard Hawke approach, hesitating behind him, "Shit."

He released a small breath of relief. She hadn't run, and he couldn't help but smirk at her typical Hawke response. The feeling of acceptance he found simply in her choice to remain threatened to undo him completely. He had shared one of his darkest secrets with the woman, and she was still standing behind him, shaken, but present.

He tensed as he felt Hawke's hand on his back; it paused for a moment before slipping around his waist to his stomach, and was quickly joined by her other arm and body, pressed against him in a tight hug.

He could feel her head resting between his shoulder blades. They stood together in silence, Fenris frozen in place. He wasn't sure if he had ever been held before, but the gentle breath and beating heart of Hawke on his back promised he would remember this.

Fenris finally spoke again, "I've never spoken about what happened to anyone. I've never wanted to." He continued to surprise himself with these open admissions. "Perhaps this is what is means to have a friend?"

His markings were lighting up beneath her touch, and he could feel the increase of her pulse in the silence. She finally responded, keeping her voice hushed against his back.

"It might… mean more than that." She spoke the words haltingly, as if they were slipping past her lips without consent.

Fenris was taken by surprise, even after his story, that she could still view him so favorably felt like a dream or a trick.

"I…" he stopped, taking a moment to control the roaring in his ears, and the tension in his stomach. He was entering a territory completely foreign to him, and had to walk with trepidation.

"I am an escaped slave and an elf, living in a borrowed mansion." He paused, "None of these things bother you?"

"I'm an apostate refugee. Does that bother you?"

He finally turned to face her with a chuckle, unsure of what to say from there. Unsure of what they had already revealed. Their usual flirtation had progressed further than it usually did, due in no small part to his drunken state.

She stepped passed him, and stood with her hands on her hips, staring out the open window. He twisted his head to observe, watching as the woman gathered her breath before looking over to him. Her impenetrable, blue eyes were resolute as they held his. With a look, she tore through his skin, and down to a soul he hadn't been entirely convinced he still had. He was disturbed by how much she affected him, and by how little he wanted it to stop.

He turned to face her back, finally speaking, "You… are unlike anyone I have ever met."

She smirked at him over her shoulder. "A lot of people say that about me, but it's usually not a compliment."

"I suppose it's a bit of both." Fenris goaded, approaching her darkened silhouette.

Hawke's smile grew as she stared out the window. Without warning, she jumped through the portal, disappearing immediately.

The quick moment it took Fenris to realize where she was going was filled with surprise and worry.

_The roof._

He sighed and climbed out the window after her, stumbling less gracefully than his lithe friend in his ascent.

He found Hawke standing at the very edge of the roof, looking out onto the dark city that was cloaked by an elaborate mural of stars.

She began speaking, still watching Kirkwall, "Did you know you could see my home from here?"

He did.

"Right over there." She raised an arm to point when he didn't respond.

He came to stand next to her following her extended gesture to the nearby house he was very familiar with,

"Interesting."

She dropped her hand and turned to face him. A flash of red fabric caught his eye, wrapping its way up the hilt of one of her smaller daggers on her thigh. Without thinking he reached out to stroke the familiar tattered ribbon; his fingers lightly caressing two strands that hung loosely from the knife.

"A little memento from my dress."

"It was a very nice dress." Fenris smiled at how appropriate the garment's fate had been.

He could feel her studying his expression as she spoke again, "I enjoyed dancing with you."

"I think we both know you enjoyed causing a commotion more." Fenris let his hand fall to his side, giving Hawke a knowing look.

She grinned widely, "There's a pretty high probability of that."

Fenris did not think there was an end to the enjoyment he received from Hawke's smiles. He was preoccupied by her smirk when she surprised him by taking his hand and placing it on her waist, moving away from the steep ledge. Fenris complied mostly out of confusion.

"Well, lets try again. This time, no audience."

She watched him intently as they moved about the roof, his grip tightening on her hip, and pulling her closer.

"You know, you're pretty graceful for a lumbering warrior."

"Funny, I was going to say you were surprisingly clumsy for a rogue."

"Ah, but what I lack in grace I make up for in charm, right?"

"Is this what Fereldans call charm?" Fenris raised his brows jokingly at Hawke.

"All you Free Marchers are so damn sensitive. Give me a drunken bar full of Fereldans any day and I'll show you a good time."

Their efforts had slowed, and at this point they were simply moving a few steps at a time.

Fenris marveled in the serenity that settled over Hawke's expression. He thought about all that he had revealed to her since they had met, and the unquestioned acceptance he had continuously been met with. While most of what he knew about Hawke had usually stemmed from Varric's tales, the validity of which were always in question.

"What was it like? Growing up as an apostate?"

She thought about the question a moment before responding. "I don't really have anything else to compare it to. It just was." Hawke shrugged her shoulders, "My father escaped from the Kirkwall circle to be with my mother, and they gave us a great life… but I think he always felt guilty for our magic. Like he had a responsibility to prepare us for the inevitable trouble that would surround us."

"Considering your luck, I would say that was rather fortuitous of him."

She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. After a moment, she continued, "I miss his lessons the most. He taught us to respect magic, not fear it." She put on her best Malcolm impression, "Magic should serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base." She smiled imagining Bethany's mirth as a younger Hawke mimicked their father's favorite anecdote behind his back.

"An idealist, your father."

"He was my best friend." Her eyes moved passed Fenris, "He was always trying to teach us something new, or embarrass us with a terrible joke." He watched her gaze sadden slightly, "When no one was looking though… I always thought it seemed like he was… waiting for something."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know." She paused considering the thought further, "Sort of like the way Varric steals glances at his crossbow, as if we don't all know the weight it carries."

Fenris looked at her troubled expression, "I apologize, I did not mean to bring up a tense subject."

She focused on him again, "No, thank you. I never really get the chance to talk about him anymore."

He studied the glimmering light of the stars in her gaze, and the slight curve of her lips. The markings hummed emphatically beneath her, and he found the warmth of her body somehow still comforting in the humid night air.

"He, uh…" Fenris felt like his tongue was suddenly swelling, "He raised a very… capable woman."

A lazy smile played across her face, "Careful Fenris, you keep doling out compliments like that and I might do something dramatic."

"In that case, you don't smell nearly as awful as you usually do."

"Flatterer."

They had stopped moving; he wrapped his arm further around her waist. In the silence he could feel her heart quickening against him. Her hand slid from his grip, lightly tracing the armor on his chest. He watched her hesitate when she reached his exposed neck, looking up at him as if asking for permission to continue. When he didn't protest, she glided her fingers over the glowing lyrium in his skin, gently following the pattern up his chin.

Fenris thought he might be able to watch the blue light dance off of Hawke's curious expression for the rest of his life. He could think of a hundred reasons why she was a bad idea, and he didn't care about a single one of them. He was tired of thinking, tired of worrying, and tired of waiting. He was tired of allowing his past to dictate his future.

He moved his free hand behind her neck, breaking her concentration on his markings. She stopped her caresses, and looked up into his eyes, keeping her hand on his exposed neck. He watched reverently as the pulse in her throat increased, the only tell of her otherwise stoic state. Slowly, as though not to frighten him away, she pulled him towards her, closing her eyes. He obeyed without hesitation.

When their lips met it was indulgent and unhurried. Fenris sighed quietly into her soft mouth, relishing in her similarly favorable responses. The markings on his chin were already humming quietly, but they heightened in intensity when he felt Hawke's tongue lightly brush against his bottom lip, asking for entry. He yielded immediately, deepening the kiss and pulling her firmly against him. They explored each other attentively, taking their time. She tasted like fire, and Fenris couldn't get enough.

Hawke pulled his bottom lip into her mouth, biting down, and sending a shock through his body, eliciting a flash from his markings and a low growl.

She slowly pulled back, laughing a little.

"What?" Fenris asked suspiciously, wondering if he had done something wrong.

"Nothing, I just kind of expected someone to interrupt us." Hawke looked around.

He stared back, annoyed that she was fading from his tongue.

"You know: Varric, an assassin, an earthquake. Abominations raining from the sky." She listed off a random index.

"Would this count as an interruption?"

She laughed again, "I guess it does. Sorry. Don't let me disturb your important business." She reached a hand up, pulling his mouth to hers again.

* * *

"Uh-hu, and how are you going to get the ship?"

"We're going to win it, of course. It's going to be totally, mostly, somewhat legal."

"Okay, but how are we going to win it?" Hawke crossed her arms, following behind Isabela, thoroughly confused.

"You are going to win a duel."

Hawke raised her eyebrows.

"Its just to first blood… usually. People only die every now and again. Depends on who enters." Isabela shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

"Isabela, I'm not really so much for organized fighting."

The pirate laughed loudly, "Oh I know. That's why we're training."

"What?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, you're good Hawke, a complete natural, but you're all reflex and chaos. We need to hone your skills. With strategy, you'll be unstoppable!" Isabela sprinted ahead, looking over her shoulder as she led Hawke through the forested paths.

* * *

Hawke wasn't sure how it had happened, but she had somehow found herself the tool of choice amongst one of Varric and Isabela's elaborate schemes.

Isabela was always scanning the harbor for new and promising ships, and when she found one she inevitably tried to make it her own. Her plans had a nasty habit of crashing and burning spectacularly, but the pirate was never dissuaded. Hawke had to at least admire her tenacity. Besides, it seemed like Varric and Isabela were in it more for the pageantry than anything else, and Hawke couldn't ignore the excitement of an intricate endeavor, even if it seemed doomed to fail from the start.

Recently a man named Castillon had come into Kirkwall with his crew. He had a fast ship, and a penchant for gambling, so Varric and Isabela had gotten to work quickly. They found an underground fighting tournament and promptly entered Hawke under and alias, correctly assuming she couldn't back down once challenged. Isabela cozied up to the captain, hoping to influence his betting, while Varric began forming the illusion of his mystery fighter, aka Hawke, to guarantee a large turnout and higher stakes. The whole act was pure artistry and Hawke was ultimately impressed by their dedication, even as she lay out on her back, bruised and muddy, while a sword-for-hire stood triumphantly above her.

Their training for Hawke had been the hardest to implement. She hadn't seriously trained for anything since the passing of her father, and she tended to react as poorly to structure as a cat to water. Isabela and Varric had tried to keep it interesting, bringing in random travelers and calling on old friends to pose new and creative challenges for Hawke. She couldn't deny that her noticeable increase in speed and strength were bolstering her confidence greatly, but it was being knocked down that kept her crawling back for more.

* * *

The evening of the fight came and Isabela presented Hawke with a large box. She sat down, placing the package in her lap and removing the lid to reveal new armor.

"It matches us." Isabela indicated her new scarf, "Varric insisted that it adds to the drama." Hawke listened to Isabela explain as she stroked the fine fabric.

It was light armor, made of dense, but moveable material. The shirt was a deep emerald green with long sleeves, overlaid by a thick, black vest with shoulders that jutted out slightly past her own, buttoning up the front with brass hooks. A hood hung loosely around the neck to conceal her face and head, along with long, black pants that tapered at the ankles. She dressed quickly, adding her own extra guards, belts, and sheathes to the set and examined herself in the mirror. With the hood secured around her head and face, only the bridge of her nose and eyes were visible, and she felt unstoppable.

* * *

"Hawke, don't sweat it. You've been training like an animal, and even on your worst day none of these assholes could touch you." Varric rubbed the shoulders of a seated and cloaked Hawke.

"Do you know who I'm up against?"

"Ah, one of these drunks, surely." Varric gestured out at the mob of people.

He walked around in front of Hawke, placing his hands on her shoulders again, "Alright, I'm gonna find Ravaini, and make sure the bets are in place. You got this Hawke. You're going to be a big, damn legend, and legends don't lose."

* * *

"She's going to lose." Isabela and Varric were speaking in a dark corner.

"What? How do you know?"

"Because she's fighting The Ogre." Isabela included exaggerated quotation marks when she said the name.

"The who?"

"The fucking Ogre, Varric. I don't know who he is, but it looks like he's undefeated, and—"

"His name's The Ogre. I get it." Varric put up his hand, thinking.

"I'm not going to get my ship, and we're going to lose all of our coin." Isabela sighed, leaning against the wall.

"See this is what happens when we go too big, Ravaini. We need to keep it simple." Varric started pacing, "Alright, here's what we do: Get Castillon to take the ship off the table. Tell him…" he pondered more, "tell him to wait for the finale. He'll appreciate the drama. Then, you need to go to his cabin and find something, anything on him. We're doing this the old fashioned way."

"Blackmail?"

"Blackmail."

She smiled wickedly, "I'll meet you back here. I'm sure Hawke will still be running around in circles by then." She turned to leave, but stopped, looking over her shoulder casually, "And… about the money… do you think I should… switch our bet or...?" She couldn't even look Varric in the eye as she asked the question.

A loud roar reverberated around the room as Hawke's opponent entered the ring. Varric and Isabela turned to watch the fighter. The brutish man's gait practically shook the room with every step, kicking up dirt and dust. He ripped off his shirt with another rattling snarl, displaying a burned and scared body.

"Yeah… definitely switch the bet."

* * *

Fenris, Aveline, and Donnic entered the smoky warehouse, pushing through the rowdy crowd.

The Guard Captain studied the raucous room, "Thanks for coming Fenris, I couldn't find Hawke, and I'd already assigned the patrols."

"Keep those patrols away from my mansion, and I am at your disposal indefinitely." Fenris looked at Aveline.

"Maker. This place is _disgusting_." Donnic stepped over a drunken man, passed out in his own vomit, and shuffled to avoid a small group of men beating each other senseless.

The warehouse was full of smoke, ale, and just about every mercenary band in Kirkwall, "I— I don't think we have enough men, lov— Captain."

"I'm not here to break it up, I'm here for information. We find who's organizing these, and we cut it off at the source." Aveline continued to scan the sloping warehouse.

A loud bell sounded, and the crowd began surrounding the center ring as a fight commenced.

Shouts and cheers encouraged the fighters, who were off to a quick start. The smaller combatant moved impossibly fast, catching Fenris's eye as they danced rapidly around the ring, infuriating their gargantuan opponent.

The lithe, masked figure moved quickly enough that Fenris thought they might win from sheer endurance over the other. However, just as the thought passed through his mind, they slipped on the loose gravel flooring. By the time it took them to correct their footing, the large man had prepared his fist. He brought his swollen and split hand his opponent's face. The force sent them flying backwards, hitting the ground with a hard smack. The slight warrior pushed themselves up to stand slowly, shaking off the shock of the contact before running back into the ring.

"This is barbaric." Aveline was standing next to Fenris, watching the fight. "You know who would enjoy this?"

"Varric!" Donnic shouted.

"Him and Isabela." Aveline turned to her husband.

"No. Varric's over there." Donnic pointed to the dwarf, standing among the unruly crowd, jeering with the best of them.

"Of course he is." Aveline sighed and started towards their friend.

"Nice night for a fight, isn't?" Aveline stopped, standing next to the dwarf.

Varric turned to the voice, his smile faltered momentarily as he saw the approaching party. "Oh, hey Aveline… Broody, Donnic." Varric nodded at the warriors, moving to stand away from the ring so that the new arrivals were no longer facing the fight. "What are you kids doing out so late?" He grabbed ale off a passing tray.

"Oh you know, just investigating illegal fighting rings. Guard stuff." Donnic joked, crossing his arms.

"Is that what this is?" Varric looked around surprised, "You know, now that you mention it, it does have all the classic signs."

A cacophony of cheers and boos erupted from the crowd, pulling everyone's attention back to the fighting ring. The masked fighter appeared to have dislocated the larger fighter's shoulder, and celebrated with a small taunting jig, to the ire and delight of the crowd.

"Tasteless." Aveline shook her head, turning back to Varric, who was attempting to camouflage a look of pure glee.

Isabela interrupted, running onto the scene, and waving a piece of paper at the dwarf, apparently unaware of the new companions, "Varric, you won't believe what I found!" She laughed excitedly.

Varric tried to shake his head covertly at the pirate before forcing out a laugh, "I told you Seneschal Bran was dating Serendipity."

"What?" Isabela looked at the dwarf confused before finally spotting their friends. She quickly hid the paper she had been flaunting earlier. "Aveline! My favorite red headed, female Guard Captain in Kirkwall!"

"Figures you're here too." Aveline groaned, "What are you two up to?" she eyed the pair skeptically.

"We're just taking advantage of the free ale. Place a minimum bet and you drink for free." Isabela explained to an unconvinced Aveline.

"If you're both here, I suppose I'll find Hawke somewhere around as well?" Aveline crossed her arms, looking about the room.

Varric and Isabela both laughed nervously, each mumbling a different response.

Aveline waved off their rambling, "Never mind, I'm sure she's here somewhere."

The pirate fidgeted with the long scarf that she kept tied around her head. Fenris noticed a dark green cloth had replaced the usually blue fabric. His eyes moved over to Varric, the color also matched his coat, a new look for the dwarf as well, black and green instead of his token red.

Something scratched at the back of his mind; he turned to examine the fighters again. The large man had the masked figure in a choke hold, lifted from the ground. He watched the small fighter struggle, their armor matching the same green and black fabrics as Varric and Isabela.

The color paled from Fenris's face and he quickly twisted to look back at the two companions. The dwarf shuffled around, avoiding Fenris's gaze, and that was enough of an answer for the elf.

"Ow, what the—?" The man in the ring bellowed in pain, drawing their attention. He dropped the small figure who quickly scrambled from his reach.

"Oh for the love of— is that Hawke?" Aveline had just come to the same conclusion as Fenris. They turned back to Isabela and Varric, but they were gone.

"This is not going to be pretty." Donnic grimaced as the small group pushed forward through the crowd, ready to watch the fight.

* * *

Hawke moved herself as far away from the domineering figure as she could in the limited space. Her neck was absolutely going to bruise, and she was pretty sure all of the toes on of one of her feet were broken.

_You'll be fine, Hawke. Just a bunch of drunks, Hawke. _

She mimicked Varric in her mind, making a mental note to punch the dwarf when all was said and done.

_When you win. _

She attempted to pep talk herself.

The large man finally recovered, and charged in blind fury, emitting a loud roar. Hawke prepared her stance, waiting. This was exactly what she had been training for: control and planning.

When the enraged man was close enough, the she crouched down, quickly sweeping her legs around and knocking his feet out from beneath him. He fell heavily, tumbling into the spectators. Setting herself up again, she continued cheering herself on, and feeding off the passions from the crowd.

_You can do this. He's like any of these other assholes. He just… clearly ate his vegetables growing up_

The fighter took longer to orient himself this time. His arm hung relatively useless at his side, and his head and nose were bleeding from repeated percussions from Hawke. He was growing tired. All she needed to do was wear him out, then he'd make a stupid mistake and she could finish him off.

He began running forward again, when he was close enough, Hawke jumped, spinning around and using the momentum to bring her leg down upon the man's injured arm. He staggered backwards clutching the loose limb in agony. Hawke grinned beneath her mask, feeling unstoppable. Her grin faded as she saw something small and sharp exchange hands from a man in the crowd to her opponent. He was approaching her quickly, a bloodied grin on his face, wielding a knife. The mob went wild.

He sliced ferociously at her, but his lumbering movements were no match for her speed. She dodged the cuts successfully until she was caught off guard by his elbow, which made forceful contact with her jaw. The pain and strength knocked her off her feet, and she fell back into the front row of people.

Familiar arms caught her tumble, and she immediately recognized the warm humming. She turned to look into the eyes of Fenris, smiling coyly at him beneath her disguise, and making quick note of Aveline and Donnic next to him. Before she could speak, he pressed a small, sharp dagger into her hands. Grinning at him, she backed into the fight, watching as he shook his head in exhaustion.

The other fighter was prepared, and immediately charged Hawke, slicing and slashing with complete disregard. Hawke dodged and spun, dancing her way effortlessly around the increasingly irate man. He lunged at her carelessly, and she whirled around his back, stabbing him quickly in the side with her knife. He roared, turning to face her, but she had already danced to his other side, making a similar cut.

The man blindly punched at Hawke, but her lithe form simply ducked out of the way, sliding to the ground and cutting his Achilles' tendons, before quickly rotating up and away. 'The Ogre' fell to his knees, crying out. The crowd was incensed, and going crazy. She held her stance, ready for another attack. The man struggled to stand, but was unable to put weight on his legs. With no other choice, he dropped his dagger and raised his hand, surrendering.

* * *

"I still can't believe you won." Isabela offended Hawke with her surprised tone. Isabela and Varric had mysteriously returned just as the fight ended, and they had all departed to the Hanged Man.

"Why is that so hard for everyone to believe?" Hawke slammed her cup down to Varric's laughter.

"Hawke, you were surrounded by every mercenary band in Kirkwall. If anyone had recognized you, there would have been a riot. You're just lucky you still have all of your limbs." Aveline shook her head.

"No one is looking at the bigger picture here." Hawke leaned back into her chair, "I just kicked some serious ass, not to mention won a ship."

Fenris turned to Isabela, "That was a bold bet. How did you know she was going to pull it off?"

Hawke looked at Fenris in disbelief. His lips twitched, fighting a smirk as he squeezed Hawke's thigh under the table. He had actually quite enjoyed the show, once he had gotten over the initial shock of finding Hawke there. She had clearly been training, and making impressive strides. Watching her dominate the ring had been a satisfying sight to see. She shook him off her leg, scooting away, slightly drunk. "You are all jealous. They just believed in me."

Isabela and Varric exchanged looks, and the pirate hesitated, "Well…"

Hawke's head jerked over to her friends, giving them a confused look.

"Oh… Oh Maker! You bet against her, didn't you?" Donnic pointed his finger at the two before Aveline smacked it down. The drunken group fell into laughter.

"What?" Hawke shouted at her friends.

"Well, obviously we tried to change the bet when we saw you were winning!"

"But that doesn't make sense! You wouldn't have won the ship that way." Hawke whined in bewilderment. Fenris watched the scene with amusement; she looked like she wanted to punch him in the face. Again.

"Hawke, sometimes its about damage reduction, and not winning. " Varric tried to rationalize to his friend.

"But… all that training!"

"I know, but when we got to the fight, we saw your opponent and…" he trailed off.

"But look at us know! Best friends and winners!" Isabela put her arm around Varric and the un-amused Hawke.

"So, wait… How did we win the ship?"

Varric grinned, "Turns out our friend had a past he wanted forgotten. We offered our assistance, and he was practically begging us to take the ship."

"So, you extorted him then?" Aveline sighed, rubbing her head in exhaustion.

"All of that work and you could have just done what you always do. Cheat!" Hawke stood up, swaying a bit, "I'm going to get another drink. Who else needs one?"

Everyone raised their hands, "That offer is only extended to those who haven't bet against me." She directed the last comment to the dwarf and pirate, but when she brought her gaze back to the remainder of the group everyone had put their hands down, sheepishly looking at the ground.

"Oh, come on! I hope you all lost your money like they did. Never bet against a Hawke!" She yelled over her shoulder as she stomped off towards the bar.

* * *

Hawke smelled the drunk man before she saw him, draping himself over the knotted and busy bar, near Hawke.

"Why's a [hick], pretty thing like you [hick], buying her own drinks?"

"Move on, friend."

"Oh [hick] don't [hick] be that way. I'll show you a night you won't forget." he finished with a lurid stare and a belch to her face.

"I'm sure you would, but probably not for the reasons you're implying."

"You talk too much. I can think of better uses for [hick] that mouth." He slapped her ass, gripping it roughly.

In less than a second Hawke reached back, seizing the man's arm, and twisted it around his back, effectively popping his shoulder out of its socket. Before he could cry out in pain, she slammed his face into the bar. He crumpled on the ground, knocked out cold. The entire bar ceased its commotion. Hawke's ale finally appeared, and she picked it up beginning to walk away, casually stepping over the unconscious man.

Another bulky man, smelling equally as bad as the first blocked her path. Hawke stood in place silent, sipping her drink. Three others joined the first, circling Hawke menacingly. She drained her large mug calmly.

"Five sovereigns says Hawke punches baldy with the glass." Varric leaned to Fenris.

"No deal."

Not a moment later Hawke cocked back her arm, swinging full force at the man in front of her, shattering the thick mug on his jaw.

Fenris grinned shrewdly at Varric, "Never bet against a Hawke."

The bar broke out into Chaos.

* * *

Hawke spotted Fenris across the room, engaging two men. There were few in the bar that even came close to a match for Hawke's motley crew, but these men were large enough to keep the elf distracted. Hawke took advantage of the opportunity, sprinting at Fenris full force. His eyes widened as he spotted her just before she made contact. She slammed into him with all of her force, sending them both toppling over a table and knocking back the other two men. Hawke rolled over Fenris and they both jumped to stand, turning to face one another.

"So, when did you wager against me?" Hawke narrowed her eyes at the man.

Fenris laughed, keeping his gaze locked on the woman, "A gentleman never bets and tells." Hawke jumped forward, swiping at his feet with her legs. He stumbled in surprise, but caught himself. She pressed forward again before he could fully regain his control. She threw hit after hit, continuing to push Fenris back. His eye's broadened in surprise and entertainment.

"I told you I've been training."

She had backed him into a dark hall, only stopping when he finally hit the wall. He leaned back lazily, watching her as she slowly advanced. She examined his disheveled hair, busted lip, and narrowed gaze that following her every move. He was perfection.

As soon as she came close enough, he quickly reached out and grabbed her tunic, pulling her into him and crushing her mouth to his own. She immediately opened hers, inviting him in further. She delighted in his groans as he delved deeper, grasping her tightly against him.

Just then, Isabela ran passed the hall with a pair of worn pants in her arms, laughing manically. An irate, and non-coincidentally pants-less man quickly followed, with Varric hanging from his neck and cheering. When all three had disappeared from sight, Fenris turned to look at Hawke, who simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Wanna get out of here?"

He didn't even respond, following Hawke eagerly out the back alley.

* * *

Hawke stifled a moan into Fenris's mouth. Sandal and Bodahn had long gone to bed, so consequently, Hawke and Fenris had yet to make it past the main room. The fire crackled lowly, only providing a dim illumination of the large room. Hawke leaned on the edge of her desk, arms wrapped around Fenris. The elf kept one hand behind her head and another wrapped strongly around her back. The embrace was slow and languid, as they both thoroughly discovered the new territory.

The pressure deep in his abdomen pulsed with relentless yearning. He felt her move a hand from his back, slowly stroking down his chest.

He stilled as her hand continued downward towards his waist, and she stopped her caresses immediately. He silently cursed himself for recoiling at her touch. His role as a slave had filled numerous vices for his master, and sometimes for Hadriana. None of the memories were fond, one of the many reasons he instinctually shied away from physical contact.

"Hawke… I," he hesitated, keeping his forehead against hers so as not to look her in the eyes. He wanted to tell her about his fears, about how he had never willingly been with someone since receiving his markings. Instead, Sandal burst from the hall, surprising both of them.

"Letter!" The young dwarf danced into the room with a sealed note, blissfully unaware of the moment between Fenris and Hawke, and approached them without remorse.

Hawke simply sighed, laughing a little as she slid out from beneath Fenris and walked to meet the boy, "What's going on Sandal?"

Suddenly, Bodahn was bustling into the room, adding to the unwanted party, "So sorry Messere! Come here boy!" Bodahn gestured over his son.

Sandal handed the letter to Hawke and skipped back to this father, "Many apologies Messeres, he bowed to both Fenris and Hawke, a lady Arianni stopped by earlier this evening to drop this off for you. Said it was very important. I fear Sandal took his role a bit too seriously."

"It's fine Bodahn. Thank you Sandal."

"Well, evening then." Bodahn ushered his son off to bed.

Hawke turned back to her desk, opening the letter to read it. Fenris studied her in silence.

"Feynriel is back." She looked up from the letter, her expression telling of foreboding.

* * *

**Lots o' Fenris and Hawke love this chapter. Finally! I guess we'll see what happens to them...**

**Dani.777- Thank you for always reviewing. You're wonderful!**

**Bigbrotherlevi- Thank you for following and reviewing! I really like those 'fuck the nobility' moments as well. They're a huge guilty pleasure of mine, along with walking away from explosions without looking back. ; ) haha I hope you keep enjoying the story.**

**Rburger and dekicobee- Thank you! I hope to keep you entertained!**


	11. Chapter 11

**SMUT. There is smut here. I can't believe I wrote it. I love it, and I am equally embarrassed by it. I hope its not too awkward ; ) Anyway, here is your warning. There will be a long break in the text before and after, so if thats not your thing, you should be able to easily skip over it and read the next part. **

**Also, I (foolishly) began writing more while editing this chapter online, instead of on MicroWord. So, as the fates would have it, I accidentally deleted everything I had worked on before I could save it. Sooo, if it feels a little jumpy or jumbled, I apologize. I tried to rewrite it to the best of my ability, but I didn't want to make everyone wait longer for the chapter so I just went ahead with what I had. You guys are awesome. **

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* * *

Justice examined Hawke, "You are different here."

She looked over her shoulder at the man that had once been Anders, "Says the guy glowing."

He eyed her suspiciously and they continued on through the dark room.

As they left the long hall, they found themselves in what appeared to be the Gallows courtyard. A demon slowly slithered its way towards them.

"Ah, how rare to see so many forgotten magics in one day." The demon swayed around the group, studying them, "The fade is usually such a slow place."

"A demon of sloth." Justice turned towards Hawke, "Do not listen to it."

Hawke ignored the whining that persisted in the back of her mind, pushing forward to confront the demon. "Leave us." Her voice startled her, sounding slightly deeper than usual. No one else seemed to take note, so she shook the thought from her mind.

To everyone's surprise, including her own, the sloth demon complied. It's cloaked form slithering away the same way it had come, and leaving them alone.

"Oookay…" Varric looked around as if someone was playing a practical joke, Bianca at the ready.

"Uh, alright. Well, first room then?" Hawke finally relaxed her daggers, strolling over to a large, wooden door.

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* * *

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Down one pride demon, and a not so trusty dwarf later, Anders, Fenris, and Hawke made their way to the next room. As she pushed open the door, her companions disappeared behind her.

"Damn it." Hawke searched for her friends in the blinding light, but knew they would be gone. She looked down at her hands, once again seeing limbs that did not belong to her. A mirror revealed that she was now Arianni, Feynriel's mother. She spotted Fenyriel speaking excitedly with another man at the back of the room.

"That's it Feynriel! I'll have you scribing all of my letters soon."

The boy looked up at the projected image of his father with admiration and glee. The demons were obviously preying on Feynriel's desire for a family. Hawke felt bad for the kid.

"Does this mean I can come with you to Antiva, father? Mother said maybe this summer."

Hawke finally reached the father and son.

"Seriously, Feynriel. Again? This isn't your father. It's a demon, and I am definitely not your mother." In hindsight, the blunt direction was maybe not the best way to go.

"A demon?" the boy looked around with growing confusion and worry, "No, no, I want this."

His father morphed back into the desire demon it had always been, sending the boy running in fear.

"Feynriel!" Hawke tried to chase after him, but the demon blocked her way. As she faded back into her original appearance, her companions finally materialized.

"You, you turned him against me." The demon accused Hawke.

She shrugged her shoulders, "Complete accident. I was trying to help, honest."

"Take away my pets, and I'll take away yours." The demon scanned the companions behind Hawke. "How loyal are these…" her eyes passed over Fenris, "_friends_, that you would bring into the fade?"

"Do you think this slave would choose you over his freedom?"

"Cast your eyes elsewhere, demon. I won my freedom long ago." Fenris spat on the ground, standing by Hawke.

"But you fear them still. They have left their marks on your body and your mind..."

The demon's gaze passed Hawke before returning to the elf, smiling. "Then there are others who have left a… different kind of mark. You desire so much, yet you are afraid. You fear you will be running for the rest of your life. You fear what she could become." It circled Fenris, "I could give you what you seek. You could destroy the magisters and have everything, and everyone, you've ever wanted."

"Fenris." Hawke tried to get his attention. She watched as he was further drawn into the mind of the demon, "It's all a lie." She put her hand on his shoulder.

His markings flashed and when he turned to face her, his eyes were dark and red. He unsheathed his sword.

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* * *

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Fenris swiftly walked away from Kirkwall, trying to rid his head of the mess he had created in the fade. He had waited just long enought to make sure Hawke returned before promptly excusing himself. Varric's quick acceptance of the demon's offer had surprised him. However, he too had folded almost instantly when placed in the same position. The shame was unbearable.

He could still distantly feel the delicate entanglement of the demon's promises as they snaked through his mind. He had seen freedom, true freedom. He had been powerful enough to end Denarius, and strong enough to protect Hawke. The desire had been unlike anything he had ever experienced before, clouding his thoughts, urging him to take it. The last thing he remembered was unsheathing his sword to Hawke's betrayed expression.

_I am a fool._

_._

* * *

_._

Hawke had just finished speaking with Feynriel's mother, when she saw Fenris leave the house.

"Oh, don't worry about Broody, he's just upset he made a fool of himself." Varric was straightening his jacket. "As opposed to some of us, who are used to embarrassing ourselves more regularly."

He shuffled around awkwardly for a minute, "Listen Hawk, I'm so sorry about what happened…you know, back there. Everything was so…strange. Nothing felt real, which makes sense considering..." he trailed off.

After a moment of silence, he finally met her gaze, "Anyways, I'm sorry. I want you to know that I will never choose a demon over you while conscious and sober."

She put a hand on her hip, tilting her head at her friend, "So, about less than half the time then?"

"Hey, its at least half… maybe two thirds, even." Varric still seemed uncomfortable, but was obviously relieved by her easy forgiveness.

She turned to examine Anders, "How about you, Anders? You feeling okay?"

He was rubbing his head slightly, but looked up to smile at Hawke's concern, "I'm fine, thanks. It just feels so strange to not be in control like that. A foreigner in your own skin. Guess that's how Justice feels all the time."

"On the bright side, you're the only person who didn't sell me out to a demon today. So, thanks for that." He laughed as she slapped his shoulder, and they left the small house.

"Lets go find Fenris."

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* * *

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Hawke held up a hand to her companions when she spotted the elf, standing alone near a cliff's edge.

"Wait here."

She approached noisily, immediately grabbing his attention. He glanced over his shoulder before returning his gaze back to the coast. Following suit, she stood next to him silently, waiting for him to speak.

"Why would you bring me to that place?"

"What?"

He turned to face her, expression grim, "Why would you bring me to the fade? I explicitly told you I had no interest in that realm."

She narrowed her eyes in confusion, "I needed help. I knew I could rely on you."

"And yet you couldn't." he looked down, his anger and remorse intermingled.

"Everyone gets one free demonic possession before I hold it against them. Don't worry." She grinned, crossing her arms.

"Do not make light of this. That— that thing twisted my fears, it controlled me without effort." His turned back to the sea below, irritated. "I failed you, and myself."

She put a hand on his arm, "Fenris, I—"

He pulled away from the contact, "Can you now see why I loathe magic? Why I hate demons? I was a pawn, owned and controlled by another, again."

"If anything this should prove to you that demons are a danger to anyone. Mage or not." Hawke retracted her hand, "In case it passed your notice, the only two individuals not to fall prey today were mages."

"Do not hold the abomination in such high esteem. He has already failed his test, and if you are not careful, you might one day too."

Hawke stepped back, "Is that what the demon meant when it said you were afraid of what _she _could become? Was it… was it referring to me?"

They were watching each other in unresolved silence when an arrow shot between them. Quickly drawing their weapons, they examined the surrounding area. Hawke spotted Anders and Varric performing the same search in the distance.

A man stepped forward from a small crag just above the trail, addressing Hawke and Fenris.

"Stop right there!"

"Hunters." Fenris growled in disgust.

"You are in possession of stolen property. Back away from the slave now and you'll be spared."

Hawke moved forward, irate, "Fenris is a free man!"

"I won't repeat myself. Back away from the slave now!"

The scene was escalating rapidly, as it often did. Hawke could feel Fenris light up next to her, pulsing dangerously, "I am not your slave!"

Before they could react, one of the hunters sent a blast of ice towards them. At the last moment, Anders cast a shield around the two, blocking the attack.

Without hesitating further, Hawke shot a massive ball of fire at the hunter, engulfing him and the small group surrounding him, before charging into the fray.

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* * *

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The fight was quick and vicious; soon only one hunter lay alive and bleeding on the ground. Fenris approached the man menacingly, grabbing the back of his head and jerking his face up to his own.

"Where is he?" he slammed the man's head into the ground before he could respond.

"Please… please don't kill me." The young man begged, spitting dirt from his mouth.

"Tell me!" Fenris slammed his head down again.

"I don't know! I don't know, I swear! Hadriana brought us. She's at the holding caves north of the city." He was crying, " I can, I can show you the way!"

There was a moment of desperate silence before Fenris responded, "No need. I know where you speak of."

With that, he snapped the neck of the young hunter and began walking away. The three remaining companions exchanged looks before quickly following.

"Fenris, what is going on?" Hawke asked, finally catching up.

"Hadriana. I was a fool to think I was free." He searched Hawke's face before turning from her and continuing his relentless pace, "They'll never let me be."

"Who's Hadriana?"

"My old master's apprentice. I remember her well: a sniveling social climber that would sell her own children if she thought it would please Denarius. If she's here, it's at his bidding. I knew he wouldn't let me go."

The venom in his voice made Hawke to be wary, Fenris's anger had a habit of blinding him dangerously. She studied his wearied and incensed features for a moment. There was no stopping him; he was going to chase this until the end, and she wouldn't let him do it alone.

"Lets get them."

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* * *

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After battling through several waves of demons, and guards they came upon a small elven girl, weeping amid the blood and gore.

Fenris approached brusquely, "Are you hurt? Did they touch you?"

The girl shied away in fear.

"Maker Fenris, you'll give her a heart attack." She blocked his movements, and turned to the girl herself. "You're safe now."

The girl wrung her hands frantically as the tears continued down her face. "They've been killing everyone! They cut papa; they bled him!"

Hawke's disgust with the magisters was growing rapidly, "Why would they do such a thing?"

"The magister, she said someone was coming to kill her. She said she needed more power."

Fenris turned away from her, disturbed by his role in the destruction. The girl continued, "We tried to be good! We did everything we were told! She loved papa's soup. I don't understand what he did wrong."

Hawke's heart ached for the girl. She was horrified by the act and horrified by the girl's attempt to justify Hadriana's choices. She had never really understood what being a slave was like, and she wasn't sure how much more she cared to know.

She stuck out her hand awkwardly, attempting to offer comfort, "Shit. It's, um… it's going to be okay."

The girl pulled away from Hawke, "Everything was fine until today!"

Fenris shook his head sadly, almost whispering, "It wasn't. You just didn't know any better."

The elf stepped towards Fenris, wiping her tears, "Are you my master now?"

He looked up horrified, "No!"

"But—I can cook, I can clean. What else will I do?"

Hawke reached a hand out to the girl, ushering her attention away from Fenris, "Go to Kirkwall, and find the Amell Estate in Hightown. Tell Bodahn Hawke sent you. He'll get you set up."

The girl nodded her head eagerly, drying her eyes. "Oh praise the Maker! Thank you!" she ran off, leaving the desolate and rotting caves.

Fenris turned on her angrily, "I didn't realize you were in the market for a slave, Hawke."

Hawke's brow immediately furrowed in confusion, "I gave her a job, Fenris. Do you really think so lowly of me?" She said his name tightly, attempting to hold back her own anger at his assumption.

He stepped back, rubbing his neck, "Ah, then… Good. My apologies." He turned away from her and continued to walk away, "Let us find Hadriana and be done with this place."

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* * *

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Several more attacks by mages and their summoned demons, led the group to a long open room. A tall woman stood at the far end, a sneer plastered on her overconfident face.

She eyed them with boredom before speaking, "Look at Fenris, all grown up and found himself a new master."

The elf snarled dangerously, only prompting an even larger grin from the woman.

"I don't believe we've met. I'm Fenris's friend, Hawke. You must be that crazy bitch I only just heard about?"

The woman chuckled darkly, "How quaint. Fereldan, no doubt?"

She turned her attention back to the elf; "I'm positively wounded, little wolf. Have you found another to warm your bed so quickly?"

Hawke heard Anders choke behind them, Varric's elbow quickly finding its way into his stomach. She watch Fenris bristle at the comment, his hands curling into tight fists.

"Ah, no matter. Soon you will be back where you belong."

Hawke's grip on her daggers tightened, "The only place Fenris belongs, is wherever the fuck he wants to be."

Hadriana scoffed at her, "Definitely Fereldan. I am going to enjoy killing you, and your other companions."

Fenris charged the woman, but was stopped in his tracks by a spell. Snakelike vines slithered from the ground, entangling his legs and rendering him immobile. Hadriana began preparing another. Hawke quickly gathered all of her energy, and forced it towards the woman, putting all of her strength behind the push. A powerful fist of energy shot forth and into Hadriana's chest, sending her flying backwards into a wall.

She sat up, wiping the blood from her mouth, "A mage. Isn't that a surprise? You'll die the slowest, you bitch."

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* * *

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The woman finally fell, and her staff was knocked away from her hand. She scrambled for the instrument, but Fenris was faster. He grabber her by her robes, forcing her to sit up painfully. His markings ignited, prepared to take her life.

"Stop, you do not want me dead!" Hadriana yelled, putting up her hands between them.

Fenris snarled at her, "There is only one person I want dead more."

"I have information, elf. And I will trade it in turn for my life."

Fenris sneered at her offer, "The location of denarius? What good would that do me? I'd rather he lose his pet pupil." The glow of his lyrium intensified.

"You have a sister!"

It felt like the air left the room, and Fenris faltered. A grin spread across Hadriana's face, and she seized the moment.

"You wish to reclaim your life? Let me go, and I will tell you where she is."

"Nug-shit." Hawke crossed her arms, standing a few steps back from him.

Hadriana ignored her, keeping her gaze focused on the elf, "I know you Fenris. I know what you're searching for." She reached out a hand that stroked his jaw; this time is was Hawke's turn to bristle. The woman's gaze grew increasingly more sinister as she became more confident. "If you want me to betray Denarius, you'll have to pay for it." She smiled wickedly.

Fenris was silent for a moment, showing no reaction to her offer, as he thought. Finally, he slowly closed the small gap between them, leaning his face directly in front of Hadriana's.

Her smile only wavered momentarily before she continued, "Do I have your word?"

"You have my word." Hawke was surprised by his agreement, but waited.

"Her name is Varania. She is in Qarinus, serving a Magister by the name of Ahriman."

"A servant? Not a slave."

She shook her head at him, "She's not a slave."

Fenris's eyes narrowed at the woman, studying her intently before his markings pulsed, "I believe you."

He shot his arm through the mage. Her eyes were wide in fear and surprise as he shoved his hand deeply into her chest, lingering for longer than necessary. She gripped his arm with her hands, weakly struggling against his strength. Her arms slipped limply from him to her side as he jerked his hand back. Blood and gore dripped down his arm, her mangled heart crushed in his fist. Thick, red liquid seemed to flow endlessly from her body, surrounding them. He dropped the carcass carelessly, standing to face Hawke.

"We are done here." Everyone stood frozen in shocked silence.

"Do, uh… do you want to talk about it?" Varric tested the mood.

Fenris spun around at the group, "No! I don't want to talk about it." He spit out the words angrily, "This could all be a trap."

He began pacing, "Denarius could have sent her here to tell me about this—this, sister. Even if he didn't, trying to find her would still be suicide. He has to know about her and has to know that Hadriana knows…"

He stopped, looking back at the mangled corpse of the mage, "But all that matters is that I finally got to crush this bitches heart." His voice cracked in frustration. "May she rot, and all the other mages with her."

"That's healthy." Anders whispered from the corner.

Hawke was speechless. She knew Fenris was in distress, but the statement was harsh, even for him. She reached out an unsure hand, never knowing quite what to do in situations like these.

Fenris dodged her advance, "Don't comfort me. You saw what was done here! There's always going to be some excuse, some reason for mages to do this! Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her. What does magic touch that it doesn't spoil?"

As the last words came from his mouth Hawke's heart fell and her expression hardened. She knew this was a mess, but Fenris had crossed a line, several times over.

"I—" he wiped the gore from his face, his mind finally catching up with his mouth, "I need to go." He turned away from her and left the caves.

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* * *

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After a few too many pints at the Hanged Man, Hawke found herself a dangerous combination of angry and drunk. On her way home, she made the last minute decision to confront the elf, and veered off towards his mansion. His words had been unnecessary and malicious. Hawke was a mage, her father and sister too. Did he feel that way about them? Against her better judgment she stomped and stumbled through Hightown. Without pausing, she burst through Fenris's door, letting it slam shut behind her.

The elf was standing in the main room stinking of liquor and dirt, an open bottle of wine in his hand.

"What the fuck, Fenris?"

"Hawke."

She approached him rapidly, "I'm sorry about the smell, I've spent the last few hours rotting with all the other mages at the Hanged Man."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, turning away from her, "Hawke… I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so. I was… not myself."

"I can handle your anger Fenris, it's your perpetual loathing for my magic I can't keep up with."

He took a long swig of the wine in his hand, still not facing her, "There is nothing that I could hate about you. I hate the magisters, hate magic, but I cannot hate you." He sighed, walking away a few steps before pausing again, "When I was a slave, Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny me my meals, torture me… use me for her... pleasures."

Hawke paled a little, holding her breath and allowing Fenris to continue, "Because of her status, I was powerless to do anything, and she knew it. The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now… I couldn't let her go."

"Fenris, if you asked me, I would help you burn Denarius's House to the ground. I could give two shits that you killed that bitch. But when will you learn to separate terrible individuals and magic? They're not synonymous."

"Don't you think I want to? I can't let it go! I can't erase my nightmares." He turned around, walking quickly towards her in anger, "It's a sickness, this hate inside of me… this dark growth. I thought I could escape it, but it dogs me no matter where I go."

"Only because you allow it to!" Hawke pushed back, "Your fears, your hate, you allow them to control your life. To chain you to your past!"

"Spoken like someone who has never been a slave." Fenris spat, turning away from her again.

"Stop being so bloody, stubborn!" she grabbed his arm. His markings lit up dramatically, and before she knew what was happening he had her roughly pinned against the wall. There was a heavy silence, both fuming and breathing deeply. After a moment, Fenris sighed, backing away and releasing Hawke from the hold, "You should go."

She left the mansion, feeling worse than when she had entered.

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* * *

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The following evening, Hawke found herself helping Anders in his clinic again. The night had been busy, but now that they were entering the early hours of the morning, it was quieting down.

Anders stopped folding blankets, "Hawke… I know we haven't really talked about that night."

She smirked, continuing to sort through the books and papers on his desk, "And we definitely don't have to."

He smiled crookedly, "I know. But I'm sorry I… jumped on you. For lack of a better description."

Hawke looked up from her task as he continued, "I've been thinking…" her smiled faltered a bit, "It's just— Justice does not approve of my… association with you. He believes you're a dangerous distraction." He walked closer to her, stopping short, "It is one of the few things on which he and I… disagree."

"Don't let him hear that. I'm definitely not in the mood for a lecture." She tried to defuse the nervous air that filled the room.

He laughed a little, keeping his gaze on her, "No lectures tonight, I promise."

"Anyway," he cleared his throat, looking down nervously, his hands twitching at his sides, "I've been an idiot. First, turning you away, and then acting rashly." His speech was jumbled and halting, "I just… I think we could have something. At least, I would like to see if we could have something… more." He finally looked up again, meeting her gaze.

Hawke stumbled over her words, caught off guard. Her roller-coaster with Fenris had kept her mostly distracted these last few weeks. She hadn't even thought about the kiss with the mage, or considered that Anders would still be interested in more.

"Anders… no. You're amazing, but I'm—"

"Its Fenris, isn't it?" He turned away, irritated, "Everyone keeps talking about it, but I wasn't sure." He hit his hand on his desk, "He's a beast, Hawke. He will turn on you."

Hawke's eyes narrowed angrily, "Look who's talking? The man literally warring over himself with a corrupted spirit." She approached him, "I lo—care about Fenris, but that is neither your concern, nor the reason I'm saying no, and you know it."

The slip about Fenris had left her reeling a bit. She had not intended to say that; in fact she hadn't even considered that as a possibility.

"I—Fine." He seemed flustered with what to say, "Whatever you see in a maniac like that… perhaps at least your hand will tame him."

"I think you can finish up here. I'm going home." Hawke slammed down the books she had been holding, immediately leaving Anders and his clinic without another word.

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* * *

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A heavy rain began to fall as soon as Hawke exited Darktown, and she decided to wait out the storm at the Hanged Man. She had experienced worse fights with all of her companions, including Anders, but this particularly tumultuous week had been taking its toll. Her comment about Fenris certainly wasn't helping either. They had been friends for over a year, but their recent dalliance was far too soon to really tell if there was something more.

She pushed open the rotting door to the pub, inhaling the potent scent of stale ale, and unwashed bodies. A simultaneously disgusting, yet warmly familiar experience.

The pub was packed as usual. A bard sung loudly in the far corner, trying her best to ignore the drunken, lecherous stares of the Hanged Man's upstanding patrons, while Edwina pushed through the rambunctious crowd, taking orders as well as giving them.

Hawke pushed her way through the small space, squeezing up to the packed bar and signaling for some drinks.

"No. Not you, not today." Edwina appeared, wiping off her empty tray and working quickly to refill it.

"Oh, come on. I promise I'll tip well." Hawke futilely made her best attempt at puppy-dog eyes for the barmaid.

"Ain't no tip in the world big enough to make your messes worth it."

Hawke raised her right hand over her heart; "I swear on Andraste's ashes, I won't cause any trouble today."

Edwina sighed, unconvinced, but slid a drink towards Hawke anyway.

"One more for the road?" Hawke tilted her head at the woman, who growing increasingly disinterested with every moment that passed. She sloshed another drink towards the mage unceremoniously, mumbling complaints as she turned away to continue her work.

Hawke grabbed the mugs and headed towards Varric's suite, wiggling and dodging through the masses of drunks. She paused when she reached the room, hearing an argument on the otherside.

"It's not going to fit."

"Just push harder."

Hawke used her foot to push open the door, balance the two mugs in her hands. Varric and Isabela stood at the far side of the room, inelegantly shoving a large body through the open window. Another unconscious man lie on the ground in a growing puddle of blood.

The two froze when they hear the door open, but continued as soon as they realized it was Hawke.

"Come over here and help us, would you? Edwina will have my balls if she finds them in here." Varric's voice was strained beneath the weight of the heavy man.

She walked over slowly, setting down her drinks, "What in the void are you doing?" She grabbed the collar of the man, helping to hoist him through and out the window.

They leaned over the edge, watching his limp bod collapse onto an unattended cart full of hay.

"Actually, do I want to know?"

"Some men just don't know how to lose with grace." Isabela's voice strained as she began dragging the second man towards the window.

They heaved him through the small opening and dropped him onto the passed out man below.

Hawke returned to her drinks, plopping herself down in a chair and putting her feet up onto the table.

"Oh, how thoughtful of you." Isabela sat across from her, reaching for one of the mugs.

Hawke swiped it from her grasp, "Get your own, wench. These are mine."

"Rough night?" Varric dusted off his hands, taking a seat at the head of the table, and dragging a half empty bottle of whiskey towards him.

"Rough week." Hawke responded, muffled by her rapidly draining ale.

"What are you doing, slumming it down here so late? Or is it early?" Isabela began cleaning her nails with a small knife.

"Helping Anders at the clinic."

"Ah, so I guess that didn't go very well." Varric nodded to her empty glasses, pouring a few shots and sliding them across the table.

Hawke shrugged him off, grabbing one, "It's fine, we just had a disagreement."

"And did that disagreement have anything to do with a certain brooding elf we all know?"

Hawke ignored the question, throwing back the shot. Varric followed suit, coughing a bit, "Well, what ever it did, or didn't, have to do with I'm sure Blondie will get over it."

He cleared his throat awkwardly, pouring more drinks, "But uh, since we're on the topic… As your friend, I feel like I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn't say anything. You do realize broody is covered in spikes, like some sort of angsty porcupine? He might have a few issues."

Isabela put her feet on the ground, leaning over the table, "Oh come on Varric. That taut, controlled body. The brooding demeanor, and intense gaze." She sucked down the offered whiskey, "You know, I hear he still wears the shackles from a life in bondage beneath his clothes." She wagged her eyebrows at Hawke.

The door to Varric's suite swung in, Edwina entered with a full tray of ale, eyeing the group suspiciously.

"Edwina, you minx, are those for us?" Varric eyed the drinks.

"Not getting into trouble up here, are we?" The woman searched the room from her spot by the door.

"Trouble? Never." Isabela rested her head in her hands.

"Right, so that is…" Edwina pointed at the large puddle of blood on the ground.

"...from a nose bleed?" Hawke smiled.

"You lot will be the death of me." Edwina sighed in exhaustion, putting down the drinks and leaving the room.

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* * *

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The rain seemed to have only intensified since Hawke's stop at the Hanged Man, concealing the light of early morning with heavy clouds. However, the break had been much needed, and now, warmed by ale and the good humor of her friends, her mood had settled to something tranquil and pleasant.

She thought back to the argument with Anders. She knew Justice was exhausting him; the mage and his ill-fated spirit had been perpetually fighting ever since their return from the Deep Roads. She couldn't fault him for grasping at any sense of stability. Rather, it was the uncomfortable revelation about Fenris that was still scratching at the back of her mind.

Had she really almost said that she loved him? Could her feelings have progressed so quickly?

At least, true to their form, their penchant fighting had not ceased, and their relationship in general felt relatively unchanged, but with the recent events in Fenris's life, Hawke wondered it if might be a foolish time to be exploring… whatever this was.

She thought of his lips on her skin and the feeling of his sharp gauntlets pressed against her, and was grateful for the cooling rain on her rapidly reddening face. Maker, she didn't want to stop exploring. Her stomach continued tying itself into not altogether unpleasant knots as she rounded the corner of the courtyard in front of her home.

Stopping dead in her tracks, she saw Fenris standing near the large door to the Amell estate. He had clearly been waiting a while, and was soaked almost as thoroughly as Hawke. The air left her lungs, and she remained frozen in place, her heart beating wildly. They had spoken little since their argument, and the sight of him dripping wet and stalking towards her was almost too much to bear. She couldn't help but feel like prey beneath his intense gaze.

He finally spoke, emitting a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine, "I have been thinking about you. In fact, I have been able to think of little else." He stopped just before making contact, "Command me to go, and I shall."

Hawke could feel his breath, and the heat radiating from his skin, "Stay."

He grabbed her vest, quickly pulling her tightly against him and swallowing whatever else she might have said.

The rain continued to pour, but Hawke didn't care. Her head was swimming with the electric exhilaration of Fenris's tongue. She grabbed his armor and spun him around, pushing him up against the stone wall of the estate, quickly bringing her mouth back to his as he wrapped his arms further around her. She pressed her thigh against his leg, feeling his arousal. A shockwave passed through her body in response and she pulled back. Without a word, she grabbed his hand and led him through the door.

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* * *

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Fenris followed willingly behind Hawke. Her body swayed confidently, even as she tried to lead him through the house quietly. Once they were inside her room, she shut the door, turning around to face him. They stood in silence, a few steps away from one another, with nothing but the pattering of rain on the tall windows interrupting the quiet.

She reached up to free her hair, smoothing out the wet locks with her fingers, while kicking off her boots. Fenris's eyes slowly moved over her, studying her form, illuminated by the warm, flickering light of the fire. Her clothes were soaked and disheveled, her tunic and vest clinging to her slim frame. He remained frozen in place as she worried her bottom lip.

In response to his inaction, Hawke made the first move. Holding his gaze, she slowly unbuttoned her vest, allowing it to drop to the floor before she began to unlace her pants. His eyes followed her every move unblinking. He didn't understand the overwhelming feeling that dominated him whenever he was around her, but he wanted more. He needed more.

Moving her hips slowly, she pushed the dark, leather pants to the floor.

Standing in front of Fenris now, she was in a long, cream tunic that hung open loosely in the front; her nude form visible beneath the thin, wet fabric. He stared, captivated, as her bare feet shuffled beneath her.

Crossing her hands over her waist, she pulled the shirt over her head, discarding it on the floor, along with her other garments.

Fenris marveled at the woman that stood before him. Completely bare, with tangled, damp hair that hung freely behind her back. His eyes traced the curves of her muscles, memorizing her pale skin, marred by bruises and old scars, indicative of the warrior she was. The lyrium in his skin murmured steadily, as his heart beat rapidly, threatening to jump from his chest. Never in his life could he have imagined having someone like Hawke. Yet here she stood.

Fenris moved to close the gap between them, continuing to study her. He reached out to touch her skin, brushing his fingers over her stomach, and rousing his lyrium brightly on contact. His fingers splayed out over her, stroking their way up to her ribs. He gently grazed his hands over her nipple, massaging her breast, and relishing the tremble that passed through her body.

He continued to move up to her neck, before weaving his hand into the thick, long hair at the base of her skull. Her bright eyes held his gaze intensely, lips slightly parted in thought. He gripped the locks firmly, leading her mouth to his.

The kiss was slower and deeper than in the rain. Each moment with her further erased the troubles from his mind. Fenris wanted to forget his hate, and the world outside; he needed to forget everything that wasn't Hawke. She glided her tongue across his, searching his mouth earnestly. Her taste was powerful and relentless, and he couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips as she pressed her warm body harder against him.

She leaned back, tilting her mouth up to his ear, her warmth breath tickling his neck, "Are you sure?"

Her lips lightly touched his ears, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. He had never been so sure of anything in his entire life.

"Yes."

She moved her hands to his shoulders, twisting his body around, and pushing him against the wall. He leaned forward, hunting for her lips again, but she pinned him back firmly, and began the arduous process of unbuckling and unlacing his armor. He watched her with reverence as she thoughtfully removed each piece, setting it onto the ground. Soon he was down to a simple, black shirt and pants. She pulled the shirt over his head, letting it hang limply in her hand as she took a moment to trace the lean muscles of his arms and chest.

Fenris leaned back, enjoying the glow that reflected on her face as she traced his lyrium. She brought her mouth to his shoulder, slowly kissing along his collar and moving up his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, gently grazing his fingers up her back as she worked to unlace his pants. Finally succeeding, she pushed them down passed his hips, just enough to free his arousal. He stilled as he felt her hand wrapping around him, eliciting a sharp, involuntary sigh into her hair.

Before he knew what was happening, Hawke was slowly kissing her way down his chest. She slid to her knees in front of him, bringing his pants with her.

Fenris looked down at her, "Hawke, I—" his voice transformed into a shocked moan as she wrapped her mouth around him. He jerked his head back in surprise, hitting the wall behind him painfully. Hawke held him securely in her hand, gliding her tongue around his tip.

Satisfied that he was enjoying himself, she began to take long, slow strokes down his length. Her hands moving confidently in time with her mouth, while he struggled to remain standing. He buried his hands in her hair, wracked with a pleasure that had never been bestowed upon him, and unraveling at the seams.

When she paused, he grabbed her arms, pulling her from the ground back to his lips. He wasn't going to last if she continued, and he never wanted this to end. Lifting her further up against him, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he moved them to the bed, desperately savoring her taste. When they reached their destination, she let her feet fall to the ground, pushing away from him, and edging back onto the blankets.

Fenris was immobilized as he watched her fair form laid out before him: blue eyes darkened, hair wild, and lips red and swollen from exertion. She was perfect.

She smiled at him, leaning back on her arms, and inviting him forward.

Fenris slowly crawled over her, starting at her feet and working his way up. He wanted to kiss every part of her, lick every scar. He needed to feel his skin burning beneath her. When he reached her face, he stretched out next to her, slowly stroking his fingers up and down her body, studying her expression.

"What's wrong?" Hawke was reclined on her side, using a hand to support her head.

He watched her, not knowing what to say. Everything was right, and that was what was wrong. For the first time in his life, he felt content. He tasted freedom in her skin and on her tongue. "I never thought I needed anyone… or wanted anyone, until you." He continued his caresses, gazing languidly up her body. "You are beautiful."

A blush began to rise up her neck as she reached a gentle hand to his face, encouraging his mouth to meet hers again. He pushed back, leaning over her to continue the fervent kiss, appreciating the strong, warmth of her tongue against his.

One hand still danced lazily down her muscled form, until finally reaching her hips. His fingers extended lower, lightly playing with the dark, soft hair. Hawke's breathing became more uneven the further he edged. He let two fingers lightly drift between her thighs, just barely pressing against her. Her hips jerked slightly to meet him, and her breath stilled momentarily. Agonizingly slow, he moved his fingers deeper into her warmth, gliding in gentle long strokes.

Hawke let a small gasp slip against his mouth, producing a grin of satisfaction from the elf. He removed his hand, appreciating the moisture he had stimulated between her legs. Without much consideration he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting her arousal on his tongue. Her eyes darkened as he moved his way down her body until he reached her hips, where her legs were pressed together in anticipation.

Fenris could feel her tight muscles as she desperately tried to maintain control. He gripped her legs, massaging them and settling himself between her, slowly kissing and caressing up and down her thighs.

"Fenris…" Hawke's whispered pleas only fueled the fire that was already burning in his veins. He continued his leisurely motions, reveling in the shivers beneath him. He finally reached her center, continuing to kiss and bite, before slowly sliding a tongue between her smooth entry. She subdued a small cry as he clung to her hips, sinking his mouth further into her, and taking long, unhurried strokes with his tongue.

Hawke was intoxicating. Honeyed and wet, he never wanted to stop, and he never wanted her to stop making those enticing noises. Fenris slowed his motions, pausing at her reddened bud to nip at it gently. Placing his mouth over the sensitive spot, he pressed down and began lightly sucking, using his tongue to caress the area.

Hawke's back arched beneath him, "Maker, Fenris…"

He smirked into her, before continuing, desperate to hear more of her vainly concealed moans. He brought his hand to join his mouth, gradually immersing two fingers into her. She trembled, releasing a long, low sigh, and he felt himself swell further as she tightened around them. Hawke began to move her hips, one hand engrossed in his hair, the other trying to stifle her loudening voice.

"Fenris, please." She pulled at him.

The elf ceased his actions, pausing to look up at her. He had fully intended to continue until he saw her eyes, hooded and ardent with desire, calling to him.

He moved up her body, and she sat up to meet him, claiming his mouth. Pushing him over, she flipped herself to sit atop him. He leaned against the back of the bed, drinking in her flushed and aroused form, allowing his hands to roam over her. He took his time, savoring her softness, dewy from sweat and rain. He hadn't thought it was possible for her to become any more beautiful, but here she was, glowing and determined, proving him wrong again.

She brought her mouth to his, pressing him firmly against the backboard with ferocity. Her hand stroked at his member, bringing herself over him. He opened his eyes, pulling back from her mouth to watch, unable contain the burning moan that escaped his throat at the feeling of her easing onto him.

They remained still, with their heads together, adjusting to the sensation while his markings hummed brightly beneath her. After a moment, Hawke began to move herself on him, digging her fingers into his neck. He kept his anchored on her waist, helping her roll her hips over his own. Moving a hand to her back, he pressed her towards him, taking a breast into his mouth. Encouraged by her impassioned sighs, he nipped and languished her raised peaks with his tongue and teeth.

Her constant pace and throaty gasps guaranteed Fenris wasn't going to last much longer. He freed his other hand, reaching down between her legs to caress her while she continued to ride him.

"Fenris, I'm—" her breathing grew ragged, and she cut off her own sentence with a lament of pleasure. "… don't stop."

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her blushing skin, couldn't stop hearing the way she moaned his name. Just as he felt he couldn't control himself any longer, she tensed, crying out a final time and constricting around him. He followed quickly, losing control of his motions as he choked out a hoarse growl, and spilled into her. Fenris clutched her closely, whispering breathless Tevene into her ear while she rode out the final waves of pleasure.

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* * *

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"_Leto!" _

_Fenris found himself standing alone on a cobbled street. The buildings that surrounded him were towering and outlandishly ornate, and the salty smell of the sea drifted throughout the streets. He was in Tevinter. _

"_Leto!" The stranger giggled again. He could not place the voice, but it was somehow familiar. He began following the echo, down the long streets, and dim alleys. As his searched went on, his desire to find the mysterious person behind the call intensified. _

_As he continued, the scene changed and he found himself walking through tall grass. He could just see the wide bay that led out to the endless sea._

"_One day we'll leave this place Leto. You, me, and mother."_

_He looked down at the young woman standing next to him. Her hair was a fiery red, hey eyes the same green as his own. He could not find her name. She took his hand, and they stared out at the sun setting over the calm water. _

_Before he could stop it from happening, the scene changed again. This time he was laid out onto a large stone slab. The room was damp and only lit by candlelight. He looked down at his nude body. His skin was tan and smoothed, not a mark of lyrium in sight._

"_Are you ready Leto?" A sickly familiar voice spoke from the darkness. Fenris closed his eyes tightly, this was a voice he had no trouble placing. Denarius approached the table that held Fenris, eyeing him appreciatively. The man reached out a hand, lightly stroking Fenris's exposed skin. He tried to flinch away, tried to scream, to rip out the throat of the monster that stood before him, but he couldn't move. _

_Denarius's cold, high laughter filled the room, as an unbelievable pain wracked Fenris's body. He cried out in pain._

_Suddenly he was no longer on the table, but standing next to it, obediently watching Denarius inflict his horrors on another poor soul. He studied the bare form on the slab, writhing in pain, and felt ice run through his veins. Hawke lay sprawled on the surface, her hands balled into tight fists and her muscles contracting in anguish. Her blue eyes called out to him, begging him for help, but he remained frozen. _

_Denarius's laughter grew louder and more maniacal until it was all Fenris could hear as he watched, helpless._

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Hawke slowly began to stir from her slumber. Facedown on the bed, she stretched out her legs, enjoying the smooth, silk sheets that draped loosely around her waist. Her muscles were warm and relaxed, a pleasant reminder of her recent activity. She reached out a hand only to find the space next to her empty and cold.

Opening her eyes, slightly, she noticed the dimming light out the window. Maker, they must have slept through most of the day. She rolled over to her other side, spotting a fully dressed Fenris leaning on the hearth. Her stomach dropped in warning, as the air of the room changed.

Mustering her shield of humor, she leaned casually onto her elbow, "Was it that bad?"

He jerked his head towards her, startled that she was awake, "No, I'm sorry, it's not… it was fine."

Her heart joined her stomach before he continued, "No. That is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed."

The statement was exactly what she would have hoped to hear, but something was wrong.

"So... you're leaving because..." she left the question open.

He turned away, "I… began to remember. My life before. Just flashes…"

Hawke rose from the bed, walking over to him.

"Your life before? What do you mean?"

She felt a blush rising up her chest and neck as his gaze lingered over her nude form. He turned away before speaking, "I've never remembered anything from before the ritual. But there were… faces. Words. For just a moment I could recall all of it. And then it slipped away." He hit his gauntleted fist on the stone fireplace.

She touched his arm, "Don't you want to get your memories back?"

He shied away from her, "Perhaps you don't realize how upsetting this is. I've never remembered anything, and to have it all come back in a rush, only to lose it… I can't..." his voice broke slightly. "It's too much. This is too fast. I cannot… do this." He refused to meet her eyes.

Hawke's brow furrowed, "Can't do what?"

He turned around to face her, "This." He gestured between them, "I... there is too much I don't understand. Too much at stake."

"So, that's it? It isn't you, its me?" Hawke was embarrassed, angry, and upset. She was everything spilling over and once. She desperately tried to conceal her wounded pride, self-consciously grabbing a robe to wrap around her exposed form. For the first time in years, she had finally felt complete, content, and now it was gone.

"Hawke, I'm... sorry."

She turned away from him, pacing to the window at the other end of the room, "Get out."

There was a moment of stillness before she heard him walk towards the door. He paused again when he reached it, but she refused to face him. Uncomfortable knots were growing in her stomach, and her throat constricted painfully as she used all of her energy not to scream. He finally left the room.

She waited completely motionless until she heard the front door to the estate creaking shut. As soon as she was sure he was gone, she strode over to her desk, using it as support while her legs threatened to collapse beneath her. All of the emotions she had been holding back consumed her at once. She felt used, and furious that she had allowed him to make her feel that way. She felt like an idiot. Letting out a bitter cry, she swiped the books and vellum from her desk and onto the floor, tears stinging her eyes.

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* * *

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Fenris waited until he slammed the door of his mansion before falling back against it. He glanced down at his arm and the red ribbon he had taken from her dagger. He shouldn't have taken it, he didn't deserve it, but he didn't care. He could still smell her on his skin, still taste her on his tongue. His body ached with want. Being with Hawke had been indescribable, but what he had said was true. These new memories haunted him, there was so much he didn't know, so much he couldn't control, and he was a danger to her until he did.

He gently touched the fabric. The image of Hawke clutching herself and standing alone in her room flashed through his mind. He stood up, shaking his head. Flashes of Denarius and a woman with red hair rushed through his memory in quick succession, too fast to catch. He let out a yell of frustration, swinging his fist around and making contact with a nearby shelf. The rotted wood creaked and collapsed, sending up a cloud of dust.

His rampage continued throughout the mansion, until, bloodied and covered in dirt, he came to a stop in his room.

Breathing heavily, he inspected the devastation that surrounded him. A large, worn tome lay towards the back of the room. He circled it cautiously, before crouching down in front of it. He couldn't bring himself to touch the tattered pages, knowing exactly what it would be.

He finally flipped it over: The_ Book of Shartan._

His heart clenched painfully in his chest. He had been a fool to think he could have Hawke, and an even larger one to have let her go. He was broken, and lost; Hawke deserved more. She deserved everything that Fenris might never be able to give her.

"I'm… gonna go out on a limb and guess you forgot about Wicked Grace tonight?" Fenris stood quickly, startled by the interruption. He turned to face a very confused looking Varric.

He didn't respond, instead starring back down at the book still on the ground.

"Alright, well I'm just going to…" Varric began backing from the room, only to run into Donnic.

"Maker, were you attacked?" Aveline's husband steadied the dwarf, looking around the room.

"No." Fenris offered nothing further.

"Ah, well then." Donnic shuffled around awkwardly, exchanging confused glances with Varric.

"I, uh… I brought whiskey…" Varric held up a large, amber bottle.

After a long pause of silence, Fenris moved to the overturned table. Setting it upright, he sat himself down in a chair. For what might be the first time in his life, he didn't want to be alone. Unfortunately, the one person he longed to be with was someone who might never wish to see him again. Varric and Donnic strode forward cautiously, joining him around the table.

Varric pulled a deck of cards from his vest, and began shuffling. "Alright gentlemen, first bet starts at a sovereign."

.

* * *

**awwww shit. That got real. ****What will happen next?**

**So, I like responding to reviews here because it seems more efficient than sending a private message to everyone individually, but if there is a better way to do this, or you'd prefer no response/a pm, let me know! **

**eriaaile- welcome! Thank you for reading : ) I'm really happy you're enjoying it and I hope you continue to! Not that I'm biased, but I think I like my Carver a bit more than the bioware version ; ) He had all of the same elements, but its a lot harder to keep the game Carver on your side, he's pretty bitter. I still really enjoy the dynamic he brings though. Bethany is wonderful, but I think losing such a sweet, gentle character and keeping a sibling rivalry adds another layer to the story. I'm glad you liked Hawke's gift to Isabela as well, she's a clever woman that knows the way to that pirate's heart! **

**Dani.777- no chapter is ever complete without one of your reviews, thank you : ) I hope you don't hate me too much for how this chapter ended! **

** 10- Thank you so much for reading! **

**RBurger- Muchos gracias! I'm glad you like my original stuff. Since it's my first story, I figured it would be better for me to have some stuff to work off of, but we're definitely about to venture into a much more AU plot line : )**

**bottlecap72- Thank you for following! I hope you keep enjoying it! **


	12. Chapter 12

Hawke sprawled out lazily across the legs of her chair. The fire crackled and glowed warmly as she stared into its flames. Merrill was seated on the floor, surrounded by books and research, while Isabela stretched along the small couch on her stomach, absently flipping through one of Varric's novels. The three had been occupying the Amell library all evening.

It had been a week since the incident with Fenris, and most of Hawke's anger had seemed to evaporate in that time. Her embarrassment, however, had not been so lenient. She had almost told Anders that she loved the elf. A rash statement whether or not it was true, and she wasn't going to forget the resulting stab of rejection any time soon. She had tried her best to pacify her emotions. She understood Fenris's perspective, but unfortunately humility wasn't Hawke's strong suit. So, as usual, she had chosen to smother her discontent with a healthy dose of training and work.

Luckily, they seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement that the best course of action would be to move on from the event entirely. So life continued. Albeit, slightly lonelier and more uncomfortable than before.

Hawke turned her head and caught Merrill's brow crinkling in thought, studying a page intently.

"What's wrong?"

"Some of the letters on this page are underlined." She responded, still not looking up from the book.

Hawke relaxed, leaning her head back onto the chair and staring up at the ceiling, "My father took notes while he was reading."

Merrill looked up from the book, motioning her over, "No, its something else. Look."

Hawke stood slowly and walked over the elf, leaning over her shoulder to study the page in question. Merrill was right; they weren't notes, just individual letters marked. Hawke grabbed a piece of vellum from the table behind them and began copying them down:

_Excellent work. Payment in cache on wounded coast. _

At the bottom of the page, was a very small symbol that had been hastily scribbled. Hawke wouldn't have even noticed the emblem had she not already been studying the page so fixedly. She took the book from her friend, walking further into the light of the fire.

Merrill stood to follow her, "What is it?"

"I recognize this symbol." She pointed the mark out to the elf and Isabela, who was now leaning over Hawke's other shoulder in curiosity. "Its the Crimson Oars. Some of them would pass through Lothering pretty often."

Hawke walked towards the large bookcase that held her father's tomes, and pulled out one at random. After flipping through a few blank pages, she came across more of the same markings. She grabbed another book from the shelf, and found even more hidden messages. Book after book pulled and searched only revealed similar communications, always followed by the Crimson Oar's seal.

Hawke sat on the floor, mind racing, surrounded by piles of records and torn vellum. Isabel and Merrill sat just to the side, near the pile that had yet to be analyzed, exchanging worried glances.

"This doesn't make sense. My father didn't escape the Circle until after he met my mother… these places and dates don't add up."

"Maybe we should take a break." Merrill placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Hawke felt like she was about to unravel, and she clearly looked it as well, going by the expressions her friends wore.

"Come on, let's go to the Hanged Man." Isabela pulled Hawke to stand, and they moved away from the library and it's growing secrets.

She strapped on her daggers and boots, following her friends out the main hall. Reaching out, she lightly stroked the petals of a small bouquet of lilies. They had been delivered for Leandra earlier that day. A pang of jealously shot through her heart that she snuffed out immediately. She didn't need someone to send her flowers; she was just tired of feeling so lost and alone.

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* * *

.

Several large mugs of ale later, Hawke had been mostly able to push the newfound mystery of her father to the back of her mind.

"As soon as the ship is finished, I'm taking us all to Antiva for Satinalia. You haven't truly lived until you've danced in the streets, and rutted a farm boy in an alley."

"Oh, I've read about Satinalia it in books. It sounds so romantic and beautiful." Merrill leaned her head in her hands staring off as if she was imagining the city in the distance.

"Sign me up." Hawke raised her mug.

"What about you, Broody? Want to go to Antiva?" Varric spoke over Hawke's shoulder.

Everyone turned expectantly to the elf looming in the doorway.

"Antiva is a cesspool of criminals controlled by the rich." Fenris paused momentarily in the passage before continuing in.

"So… yes?" Hawke tilted her head, smiling wryly.

Fenris merely sighed in response, sitting down at the other end of the table. He appeared tired and rigid, and she couldn't help but feel a small amount of satisfaction.

He extended his arms as he seated himself, revealing a red fabric wrapped around his forearm before it disappeared again beneath his gauntlets. She studied the place it had appeared with curiosity; the red color seemed so familiar. Casually brushing the dagger on her thigh, she examined the bare hilt. She'd assumed the ribbon had fallen off in a fight without her notice, but now she couldn't stop staring at the elf's arm, waiting for a slip of his shirt or a shift of his spiked armor to reveal what lay underneath.

His eyes shifted over to hers, catching her gaze. They both jumped a small amount before turning away from one another, embarrassed at having been caught in the act.

Hawke attempted to focus back on Varric's voice, "Care to try and win back some of that money you owe me, Ravaini?" he was shuffling his deck of cards, beginning to deal them out, "What about you elf? You owe me four sovereigns from Tuesday."

Hawke's brow furrowed as she watched Fenris freeze in response to Varric's teasing. She continued to study him inquisitively as he refused to raise his gaze from the floor. Her mind sifted through the possibilities.

_Diamondback… Tuesday…. _

It was Hawk's turn to freeze as the date settled in her mind. She looked down at her lap groaning under her breath. Of course she couldn't remember birthdays, but leave it to her to remember the day Fenris had rejected her, citing _"I can't."_

"Just wasn't your lucky day, was it?" Hawke finally looked up at Fenris.

"You're a glutton for punishment, Broody. It's going to make me a very rich man." Varric continued to distractedly deal out cards, failing to notice the shift in the room's mood between his two friends.

Hawke's goal was to remain composed as best she could. She wanted to feel fine; she wanted to feel nothing upon hearing that the elf had stormed out of her life leaving her alone and confused, only to pick up a game of cards with their friends. Her throat itched, and red skin began to rise up her neck the more she struggled to exercise control.

She scratched her shoulders, finishing her ale, "Well, I need to head home, I'm exhausted." She stood from the table clumsily, knocking it back and shifting everyone's drinks. After steadying the table, she placed a hand on Isabela's shoulder, "Win enough gold to take us to Antiva."

"Anything for you, love."

With that, Hawke turned and left the room.

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* * *

.

Fenris thought the air had been sucked from the room when Varric mentioned the game. He could only imagine the thoughts that were going through Hawke's mind as she pieced the date together. After her hasty departure, the companions continued on as if nothing had happened. Varric took back Hawke's abandoned cards and the game began.

For Fenris however, the entire room's mood had distorted. It was so strong he almost couldn't believe no one else had felt it. The pain had been escalating throughout the week until he could ignore it no longer.

He had ruined the one thing that was worth something in his life. Further proof that he wasn't ready to be what he needed to be for her. The world had shifted, and everyone was going on as if nothing had changed.

Fenris stood up abruptly, "I must go as well." He left the room without looking back.

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* * *

.

"So… they always that subtle?" Donnic asked the group, watching the door swing shut behind the elf.

Varric sighed, studying his cards, "Yup, 'bout as inconspicuous as the Arishok in a Chantry. I'm just trying to stay out of it."

"Maker, I never thought I'd hear those words coming from your mouth." Aveline grinned sardonically at him, "Sine when does the great story teller Tethras keep his nose out of anything?"

"Probably around the time we saw Fenris tear the heart out of a man." Isabela leaned back, putting her feet up on the table.

Varric pointed knowingly at the pirate, nodding.

Merrill hiccuped from the corner, "Whatever happened I hope they fix it. Fenris is grumpy without Hawke." Everyone gave the elf a skeptical look, "Well...grumpier."

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* * *

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Fenris rushed out the door after Hawke. They hadn't spoken alone since their night together, and he still had no idea what to say, but he simply couldn't let her go.

As he rushed to catch up with her, he wondered if he should even be in Kirkwall any longer. He had long fulfilled his service to the woman, and perhaps it was time to bring the fight to Denarius. He sighed, leaving would likely be for the best, but he knew he couldn't bring himself to go. He spotted her just as she was rounding the stairs into Hightown.

"Hawke!" He called out, causing her to falter for only a moment.

"What's up?" She turned around to face him, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head. A gesture Fenris recognized as her forced nonchalance. It was usually reserved for nobles, and the sight of it twisted a knife in his stomach.

"I just—" he cleared his throat, "I want to apologize."

"You don't need to apologize for not wanting me, Fenris. Believe me, I've petitioned for it, but Aveline still insists its not a real crime."

He brushed off her joke, eager to say his piece before losing his nerve, "Hawke, I do want—"

She interrupted him, putting up a hand, "Fenris, everything is fine. I don't know what else you're looking for."

_I'm looking for everything to go back the way it was before. I'm looking to be the person you deserve._

He ached for the mistakes he had made, but he couldn't change them. Everything he had said was true, but it would do no good to reiterate them now. He would become someone better. Someone whole. Then maybe...

The silence between them was unfamiliar and uncomfortable, and he reached for her without thinking. Her had shot out, grabbing his before he could react. She stared down at his arm hesitantly. Holding it firmly, she slowly began to pull back his sleeves. He knew he should have stopped her, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He wanted to enjoy the fleeting contact while it lasted, before they returned to their strained impassivity. Her hand slowed to a stop as she revealed the bright red fabric that clung to his wrist and arm.

He could hear her trying to control her breathing, almost whispering, "Why do you have this?"

His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth; he couldn't move, couldn't speak.

She laughed with a quiet sourness, "Keep your trophy."

She began to walk away before he finally found his voice, stopping her.

"I will leave. If that is what you wish." Even as he said the words, he wasn't sure he could follow through.

She was silent for a moment, "You're your own man, Fenris. You're free to go wherever you want." She paused again, "but Kirkwall is just as much your home as it is mine."

There was a long silence, only interrupted by the dimming sounds of the city settling in for the evening.

"What if I want to stay?"

"Then I expect that I'll be seeing you around a lot." She finally looked over her shoulder, "We do work together, after all." She turned back and continued walking away.

Fenris let her go. He had nothing new to offer her, and she didn't want to hear the same excuses again.

He lightly caressed the ribbon, tucking it back under his shirt. What had she called it, a trophy? Was that what she had seen when she looked at it? Nothing more than the mark of a conquest? He felt sick and alone, and many more feelings he thought he had sealed off within himself long ago.

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* * *

.

When Hawke got home, she immediately kicked off her boots and shed her excess layers. Stretching one arm over her head, and flexing her toes over the cool stone floor, she sifted through a new stack of letters. Selecting a few important looking ones, she retreated to the library, plopping herself down on the couch. The mail sat unattended in her lap while she stared distractedly into the fire.

Hawke wasn't ready to admit how much it had hurt when Fenris had left her. Lies, rejection, and loss were no stranger to her life. They were some of the many reasons she was so sparing with her affections. For someone to get that deep so quickly only to abandon ship had been unexpected, however. Hawke didn't like feeling out of control, unfortunately she couldn't remember the last time she hadn't felt that way.

She thought of her father. Malcolm had always said a mage was only as strong as their control, a lesson she had always strongly believed. It seemed like she had been failing a lot of his teachings lately. She had to suppress a small stab of betrayal thinking of him. She missed him more than ever, but now there so many unanswered questions. So many lies. Had he really hid so much over the years, from her family... from her? Perhaps her mother knew more, but that was a conversation she would save for the morning.

Looking back down at the letters in her lap she pulled out a note from Aveline.

_Hawke,_

_Attached some new notes from the Dupuis interrogation. Something feels off. I don't trust him. See what you think._

Hawke flipped through the next few pages. They were transcribes from the questioning. Details about who the man claimed the real killed was, his goals, and techniques. Hawke shuddered at some of the stories. Either Dupuis had a deeply disturbed imagination, or someone even more disturbed was out there.

The murderer targeted middle-aged women with few family or social ties. Hawke found it especially unsettling that he courted his victims: taking them out on dates, sending them flowers, the usual parade.

She sighed, allowing the letters to drop back into her lap. She was exhausted by everything: the madness of Kirkwall, the constant upheaval of her life and her companions' lives. Worry for her brother, worry for whatever she was slowly becoming. Anger that the father she thought she had known might be a lie.

She laid her head against the back of the couch. Shutting her eyes, she exhaled deeply. She wanted to sleep, but even that wasn't an escape from the insanity. Her dreams plagued her nights, and Kirkwall tormented her days. The only time in the past years she had truly shed her troubles was her night with Fenris.

She lost herself in the memory. Feeling his breath on her skin, his gaze lingering over her form admiringly. The deep groan from his chest as Tevene she could not understand slipped from his lips and onto her neck. His hands, strong a sure, exploring her with heated determination...

The front door was thrown open with a loud crash, quickly followed by a distressed Gamlen.

"Have you seen your mother? We were supposed to meet for dinner, but she never showed."

Hawke shook her head, hoping that she wasn't blushing as strongly as it felt. "I just got back. I'm sure she's in her room, or out." She pushed up from the couch, straightening her clothes.

"She's never missed before." Her uncle stalked off in the direction of her mother's room, "Leandra?"

Hawke put her hand on her waist, watching on exhausted, before starting after him. Gamlen ran into her on the stairs, a new level of anxiety coloring his voice, "She's not in there! Where could she be?"

"Maker, calm down Uncle. I'll ask Bodahn if it will ease your mind."

The dwarf rose eloquently, despite being roused in the middle of the night by Hawke, and her unsavory and pungent uncle.

"Messere Hawke went out this evening." Bodahn yawned, scratching the back of his head, "Interesting fellow, brought those flowers by earlier as well." He pointed at the large collection of lilies.

"See uncle, nothing to worry about, mother is just…" she trailed off as she was suddenly reminded of Aveline's interrogation notes.

_Bouquet of white lilies_

A pang of fear caught hold of Hawke's heart and she tried to get ahold of herself before Gamlen saw, but it was too late.

"What?" he eyed her with worry and suspicion, "Spit it out, girl!"

Hawke ignored her uncle, turning to the dwarf. "Bodahn, do you know where this man lives?"

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* * *

.

She rushed off in the direction the dwarf had given, instructing Gamlen to send her companions, and then return home to wait for news. She knew she should wait for support, but she couldn't stop herself. The image of her mother's face burned brightly in her mind, relentlessly fueling her forward.

The estate was cold and empty, not a single light or fire glowed throughout the massive space. Hawke removed her daggers from her back, and focused her mind. Ready for anything.

The mansion felt abandoned and stale, as though it was rarely used. Hawke was about to move her search somewhere else, slowly feeling around the room with her feet in the dark, when she tripped over something. Leaning onto her knees, she used a small flame in her hand to illuminate the area on the floor. A small door, mostly concealed, had been left hastily ajar. She quietly opened the door and slipped silently inside, leaving it open. She hoped her friends were not far behind.

After a seemingly never-ending passage of tunnels, Hawke finally came to an open room. She smelled the space before she saw it: a sickly sweet rot of blood and death. Several wooden tables sat in the center, surrounded by smaller tables that housed old and rusted tools. The slabs in the middle had large, stained sheets covering them. They were bulging, bleeding, and motionless. Hawke didn't need to look to know what they were, but something compelled her anyway.

She approached a dirtied cloth and slowly lifted it from the edge to reveal a dismembered and bled corpse. Hawke could tell nothing about the body except that it had once been a woman. She dropped the sheet and stepped away quickly. She had seen plenty of death, even Darkspawn, but this was quickly climbing the list of horrors. She needed to find her mother, quickly.

Rushing forward, the next room was well used, and mercifully absent of corpses. Instead, a large and ornate bed, couch, and writing desk filled the space. Expensive rugs covered the ground, littered with books and paper. Hawke bent down to pick up a quickly scribbled note:

_Today is our anniversary. Had hoped to complete more work before now, but once piece is missing. I'm so sorry, love. Please wait a little longer. I haven't forgotten my promise. When I see it, I'll know. I would know that face anywhere. _

She lowered her the note to her side, contemplating its contents when she spied the large painting on the wall. Walking closer she examined the work. It was a large portrait of an older woman. Hawke's brow furrowed as she studied the figure further. The woman's appearance was shockingly similar to Leandra.

She approached the painting slowly, never taking her eyes off the haunting gaze. It wasn't until she felt the trap beneath her boot that she knew she had made a mistake.

There was a split second when she heard the building roar of a fire, and imagined Varric chastising her lacking observational skills. She pushed off the ground, flinging herself backwards with all of her strength as a tunnel of flame sprayed out from a trap in the wall. She rolled over her back, righting herself again in a low crouch on her feet. The strong scent of burned hair dominated her senses, but before she could find the time to investigate the damage, bloodcurdling wails of shades and undead sounded around her.

She pulled the daggers from her back, swinging them around in her hands and surveying the room. Three shades had materialized in front of her and she could hear the angry groans of the undead as they unearthed themselves from the surrounding ground. A hand and body shot up from beneath her feet, grabbing her legs. She sliced through the grip with one knife, and decapitated the monster with the other.

"Fuck yeah!" she would have to be her own cheerleader in the absence of Varric.

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* * *

.

Hawke was beaten and bloodied. Her armor was torn irreparably, and she couldn't feel her right arm. There were some blisters forming on the side of her head from the fire earlier, and she was pretty sure a few of her toes were broken, but she couldn't stop. There was no time to heal, no time to think. Each passing moment was time taken from Leandra, and the terrors Hawke had already seen warned of the wickedness that would come.

After a long hall of darkness, she finally spotted a warm light at the end of the tunnel. Limping forward, she breached the final room. It was decorated similarly to the previous bedroom, with strange baroque furniture and decorations.

The room appeared to be empty. Hawke was investigating the area guardedly when a chilling voice called to her from the far corner.

"Ah, Marion Hawke. Leandra was so sure you'd come for her."

Hawke prepared her daggers, and pooled her magic in her palms. "Show your face."

An older man stepped out from the shadows. His long robes had deep, ominous stains of red at the bottom, but he was otherwise unremarkable.

"Where is my mother?" Hawke gripped her daggers tightly, willing herself not to kill the man before he could reveal Leandra's location.

A vile grin spread its way across his face, "She's right here."

Hawke's blood drained from her face at the macabre sight of her mother. Was it even her mother, any more? A pale and stitched corpse stumbled from a chair, reaching for her. Her mother's eyes were glassy and unfocused, and her throat scratched and gurgled painfully, attempting to speak.

Hawke released an animalistic shriek as the charged, momentarily shocking the blood mage. Taking advantage of his fright, she hurled a dagger across the room, piercing his side deeply. He let out a cry of anger before drawing a barrier around himself and summoning several demons for protection.

"You fucking coward!"

Hawke threw herself into the battle with nothing to lose, forgetting her pain and injury. She didn't think, she felt. Fueled by blind rage, she slashed, cast, and crushed her way around the room, destroying everything that came between her and the blood mage. She could sense the fear and anxiety in his magic the closer she got. It was prickling on the back of her neck, filling her with terrifying pleasure.

When she felled the last demon, she turned back to her original prey, sneering in pain and amusement at his rising panic. With one last call of his powers, he sliced open his stomach, using the massive amounts of blood to summon two pride demons to stand in front of him. They immediately advanced on Hawke, their enormous statures engulfing her in shadows.

She quickly dodged the first terrifying swipe, avoiding most of the attack. A sharp claw caught the top of her arm, slicing it open. Crying out in pain, she stumbled back a few steps before taking up her position again. She circled the room, dodging, cutting, and casting at every opportunity, but never gaining ground.

Hawke's arms were weakened, she could barely see passed the blood that was dripping from her brow, and she wondered if there was a spot on her body not marred in some way.

Just as her strength waning, a powerful force in the back of her mind began to grow. The pressure moved from her head to inhabit her entire body, filling her with an exaggerated electric glow of magic. The stale air around her cooled, relieving the burning heat of her muscles.

She felt her entire body strengthen, her injuries a distant memory. Lunging beneath a creature, she slid her razor sharp dagger along its leg. It cried out and collapsed onto a knee, and she continued to attack without mercy. She felt unrestrained and all-powerful, her body felt no pain, and her senses felt no fear. She continued to push back, and with each successful move, gained confidence. The energy flooding her body pulsed and throbbed dangerously, the pressure building far past anything she had ever experienced.

Focusing her mind, she amassed the energy in her arms. The buildup felt endless, and she looked on in delight at the frozen and confused demons and blood mage before her. Then she spied her reflection in an old, warped mirror that hung on the wall. Her entire body hung lowly in the air, glowing a golden white that was quickly growing in intensity. She examined her extended limbs, still grasping her daggers, then her toes, lightly brushing the earth.

_What in the Void?_

When she thought she couldn't hold it any longer, she pushed her hands forward, focusing all of her energy to the enemies in front of her. The beam that shot through the demons seemed to burn them from the inside out. Like the rock wraith from the Deep Roads, they absorbed the energy before cracking, and subsequently exploding from existence.

Hawke collapsed to the ground, and the room silenced. No humming of her energy, no crying of demons, no crackling explosions. She sat up slowly from her spot in the dirt. Her body was screaming, and her mind was racing. She stood carefully, wiping the blood from her eyes and mouth, and feeling like she might collapse at any moment. The mage was crumpled in the corner, his barrier gone. She limped towards him eagerly anticipating the fear in his eyes.

Upon reaching him, she turned over his body, only to find wide, lifeless eyes. His last ditch effort against her had resulted in a fatal stomach wound that was still profusely bleeding out. An uncontrolled anger surged through Hawke. She had wanted to kill him; she needed to kill him.

She let out a frustrated scream, kicking his grinning and wilted corpse.

"Marion." A whisper came from her right, coaxing her from the rage.

"Mother!" she ran to Leandra, collapsing at her side and pulling her frail body into her arms, "Oh, Maker." Her voice trembled as she took in the damage. Like a human jigsaw puzzle of greyed flesh, her mother appeared to be pieced together like a toy.

Leandra looked up at her daughter, gurgling and unable to speak, but she struggled anyway, "Mari—, I."

Hawke cut her off, looking around frantically for blankets or fabric to wrap her mother in. "Shhh, its okay mother. I'm going to fix this. You'll be okay."

Her mother weakly reached to Hawke's worried face, but lost momentum and her hand fell limply in her lap instead. Hawke tried to wipe Leandra's hair away from her face but only succeeded in smearing some of her own blood across the woman. All of the power Hawke had felt moments ago was gone. She was broken, bleeding, burned, and drained off all energy, but she felt none of it. Instead, she simply held her mother close as her struggling breaths slowly faded. With a final small breath, Leandra slipped away, taking what was left of Hawke's heart with her.

.

* * *

.

Hawke wasn't sure how long her companions watched her clutching her mother, but she could feel their eyes behind her. Eventually, a strong hand was placed on her shoulder. Hawke looked up into the face of a confused and distraught Aveline, trying to hold herself together for Hawke.

"Come here, Hawke." Aveline whispered gently, helping her friend to stand. She laid her mother onto the hard ground, and struggled to her feet. Not realizing the extent she had drained her energy, her legs immediately buckled beneath her. Before she hit the hard ground, a second pair of familiar hands shot out to grab her, stabilizing her fall.

She recognized Fenris from his metallic smell and sharp gauntlets. His arms wrapped firmly around her waist. Together, he and Aveline steadied Hawke. After a moment, she brushed them off, limping towards the furniture to support herself. She couldn't bear the idea of facing anyone, to see the look of horror and pity that was sure to be in their eyes. Instead, she leaned on the chair, eyes never leaving the cold corpse of her mother.

She faintly heard Aveline giving orders behind her.

"Fenris, get her home. Varric get Anders, she needs healing. I need to alert the guard. I'll take care of…. Of all of this."

Hawke had never felt so present and simultaneously absent in her life. There were no thoughts that passed through her head. No idle musings, troubles, or questions. She simply was. Yet, she felt like she was walking through a dream, the world around her distant and distorted.

.

* * *

.

All together Hawke had burned off a large portion of her hair on the side of her head, broken several toes and a hand's worth of fingers, broken her nose, received a black eye, a busted blood vessel in the other, and four broken ribs. Then there were the skin lesions.

Isabela studied Anders's handiwork. The man had done a remarkable job healing Hawke, but some bruises and cuts remained. One particularly nasty swipe had caught her from the ear, grazing the jaw, and down the side of the neck. The long, angry line promised to be a permanent scar.

Hawke sat in a bath motionless while Isabela wiped away the grime and gore in silence. Feelings were not Isabela's strong suit. Hawke was one of her best friends, and she would do anything for her, but she would much rather put a dagger through the heart of the man that wronged her than witness this despair. Their fearless leader looked so… empty.

She ran her fingers gently through Hawke's hair, "Well, we definitely need to do something about this."

Isabela dropped her hands around the tub, hesitating, "Hawke, I… I'm so sorry." The pirate's usual humor was gone. Hawke continued to watch the red water lap around her in silence. Isabela had never really liked Leandra. Something about the way she looked at Hawke had rubbed her the wrong way. However, her death was not something Isabela would wish on her worst enemies.

"Please. Tell me what to do." She moved herself around in front of Hawke, kneeling on the opposite side of the tub and grabbing her limp hands from the water.

Hawke remained quiet. Isabela stood, walking over to the desk and retrieving a sharp razor.

"Well, lets go one step at a time then."

The pirate returned to Hawke's back. Settling herself on her knees, and began to shear away at what remained of the woman's thick, long hair. She began to hum as she worked, filling the quiet room with a soft tune from her childhood.

The left side of Hake's head had been burned, and while Ander's had healed the skin, the hair was going to have to be shaved down. Isabela chopped the remaining locks into short layers that cut sharply across Hawke's face and ears.

"Oh, I actually like this Hawke." Isable turned her friend's head, examining her work. "Can't quite decide if it turns me on or terrifies me...and well, I suppose that turns me on a bit." She winked at her friend, smiling.

Hawke stared forward blankly.

The pirate sighed, her smile falling from her lips. Why was she even here? She was just going to make things worse. Merrill or Varric should be the one's comforting their friend. Unfortunately they were both busy helping Aveline in the tunnels.

Isabela stood up, pacing the room, "Stupid fucking Kirkwall, and the stupid fucking men who live in it."

Hawke was always in control, if nothing else she was always prepared to make a choice, to solve the problem. This shell was not her friend, and she didn't know how to find her again.

She had been working up to telling Hawke's about the Qunari artifact, but had talked herself down every time she began. Now the book lay hundreds of miles away by sea, and she would likely never find it. Unless…

"Hawke, do you want to get out of here?"

This caught the mage's attention, finally bringing her head up from its slouch, to look vacantly at Isabela.

"Love, you just say the word and we'll sail tonight." Isabela crouched by Hawke with a large towel.

She stood from the bath, allowing the water to drip from her form before accepting the towel and stepping from the basin. Isabela watched from her crouch as Hawke wandered over to her hearth. The mage lingered in front of the warm fire before finally speaking,

"I'll meet you at the Hanged Man in an hour."

Isabela smiled a wicked grin before nodding to her friend and departing quickly. She had many arrangements to make. One step at a time.

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* * *

.

Hawke pulled together a simple bag of supplies in a daze. She felt nothing. She had failed her family. She had no one.

She was moving back and forth across the room when she finally stopped in front of a mirror to study Isabela's and Anders's work. Hawke had expected much worse. She traced the long scar down her neck, appreciating its presence. A reminder of what she had lost. Interestingly, she found the short hair stranger than the scar. Bethany had always love her long hair, and she had kept it for that reason. But this new cut was perfect. She moved her head from side to side, examining it thoroughly. Simple, light. No excess. Her new epithet.

She finished packing and was almost ready to leave when an idea crossed her mind. Listening closely, she waited until the guests downstairs were distracted before creeping quietly from her room and over to her mother's. She held her breath until she heard the low click of the door closing behind her.

The room was simple, but beautiful. A large bed, desk, and a lounging couch were all that decorated the space, but it was the little things that Hawke noticed. The pile of letters by the couch that had been slightly wrinkled with over handling, her make up and jewelry neatly organized by her ink and pen. She lay down on the bed, inhaling her mother's familiar scent. Stretching out her arms, she slid her hands beneath the pillow and was surprise to feel something hard. Extracting the mystery object she revealed a worn leather bound journal: Leandra's diary. She hesitated, stroking the cover, soft with age and use.

She set the book on the bed and walked around the room, contemplating whether or not she should read its contents. Stopping at her mother's desk, she picked up a pair of earrings. The creamy pearls had been Leandra's favorite. As she examined the small bead, it fell from her hands, rolling under the bed. Hawke quickly fell to her knees, lunging after the evasive pearl. She felt blindly beneath the bed until finally casting a small, weak light. She located the pearl, but as she reached for it, noticed a small dusty box to its left. She grabbed the pearl and the box, sliding back out from the ground. Setting herself on the bed again, she placed the box in front of her. The initials MH were burned into the side of the wood. Malcolm Hawke. She gently traced the wood before slowly lifting the lid.

The forgotten box groaned loudly and dust spilled onto the bed. The case contained a few old and weathered letters, and some miscellaneous objects. She delicately flipped through the papers and notes, and carefully examined the old trinkets. Something shiny caught her eye at the bottom of the box. Setting the papers by her side, she reached into the chest and retracted a long, delicate chain. It was old, tarnished gold necklace. At the bottom of the chain was a beautiful blue stone, wrapped in a weathered, golden band that attached it to the rest of the jewelry.

She held the stone up, examining it closely. Something about the necklace made her feel a little less alone. Lifting it over her head, she placed it around her neck and tucked the stone beneath her shirt. She could hear more guests and well-wishers downstairs, so she grabbed the letters and her mother's journals, and snuck back to her room. Quickly throwing her pack over her shoulders, she headed towards the window. She pushed open the glass, stopping to turn back and look at her room. Sighing, she returned to her desk to jot down a quick note.

_I'm okay_

Satisfied that the note, coupled with Isabela's ship disappearing would be explanation enough, Hawke returned to the window. Slowly stepping out onto the small ledge, she oriented her balance, and leapt for a lower awning, swinging herself to the ground below.

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* * *

.

Fenris paced outside Hawke's estate for an hour before finally knocking. He fiddled with a small, almost crushed flower in his hand. He wasn't sure of Hawke would turn him away, but he wanted to do something. The vacant and broken woman he had practically carried home was not Hawke. She had been left somewhere in the dark tunnels below.

Fenris had never known his family, so he couldn't truly understand what she was experiencing. He knew what her family meant to her however. They were her purpose, her duty. And now they were all gone. That was something Fenris could understand. The feeling of of failed responsibility. The loss of self and direction.

Bodahn ushered him through the door sadly. The estate was full of people. none of whom Fenris recognized. He spotted Orana crying quietly in the corner, Sandal patting her back, a small confused expression on his face.

"Don't think he really understands whats happened yet." Bodahn came to stand next to Fenris, watching his son and the young elf girl.

The dwarf cleared his throat, "Well, Messere Hawke will be pleased to see you. Hasn't come out of her room yet, though I can't say I blame her."

He directed Fenris to the stairs, bowing to him slightly before turning back to the other guests. Obviously Hawke hadn't spoken much to her family about him, which left a distinctly bittersweet taste in Fenris's mouth.

He lingered just outside her door, knocking lightly before speaking, "Hawke?"

Gripping the brass handle, he pushed it open and entered the room. He waited to speak until the door was completely shut behind him.

"I— don't know what to say, but I am here." He finally looked up to see what would surely be a glare from the silent Hawke, but found himself alone. Turning about the room, he wondered if she had snuck out or if Bodahn had simply not seen her leave. He walked over to her desk to set down the small, white flower and saw the quickly scribbled note.

_I'm okay_

His hearted tightened. She wasn't okay, but he knew she would be. She was the strongest person he knew, all she needed was time. He wondered if she was on the Wounded Coast, imagining her looking out over the sea. One of the first, and only times he had seen an unguarded Marion Hawke, had been on the coast. It had been after an argument with her mother, some time before the Deep Roads. He could almost see her tranquil expression, her power and beauty unmatched by the vast sky before her.

For a moment, he considered seeking her out, but decided against it. Gently setting down the wilting flower, he picked up the note and tucked it into his pocket. It wasn't for him, but he wanted it. Taking one last look around the room, he left through the window.

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* * *

.

Hawke stood on the stern of Isabela's ship, leaning on the railing. She watched as the foundry's haze, and the glittering lights of Kirkwall disappeared into the distance. The fresh, salty air was already easing her aching head, but the tension in her heart and throat remained unaffected. She gently caressed the stone necklace, staring up at the emerging stars.

Her father, Bethany, Carver, Fenris, and now finally, her mother. Everyone was leaving Hawke, it was time she left something behind as well.

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* * *

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**Thank you guys for reading and reviewing! I'm sorry this one took so long. Sometimes life just really wants to be distracting, and I was having a really hard time getting this chapter down and edited, I hope it sounds okay : ) and I hope everyone enjoyed it. **

**Dani.777- thank you always for reviewing! Thank you, thank you : ) Believe it or not, that was my first steamy scene, so I'm pleased it went so well! ; )**

**Faebsel- you're awesome, thank you! I hope I can keep making you laugh, despite this being a pretty heavy chapter**

**Eriaaile- I agree! She really needs to be a part of that scene and it really bothers me that its not an option in the game. I get it for mechanics sake, but it always seems like Hawke has to be on the passive side. Willing to forgive anyone that wrongs her, while not being afforded the same benefit by her companions. So, I love writing her as someone who can get angry and participate, and make mistakes like everyone else. As far as the synopsis goes: b****esides just physical life, it could also mean parts of a person, ideals, legacies, etc. so it may not be a tragic as it feels…. Or it might be. We'll see ; ) I'm glad you'll keep reading!**

**Rburger- I know the feeling! At one point I was reading a lot...like, a lot of star trek fanfics specifically with Kahn (I have a type), and I could never remember which one I was reading. So they all kind of became one giant, strange, discombobulated story. ****I'm glad you love Fenris! I do too!**

**Humphries10- Thank you! I hope you keep enjoying it! **


	13. Chapter 13

Hawke reclined on a stack of crates piled at the bow of the boat. Propping up her legs on the wooden railing, she grasped a bottle of wine and stared at her mother's journal that remained closed in her lap.

They had been at sea for almost a week now, and she still hadn't read a single page. She couldn't help but imagine Bethany's scolding voice, imploring Hawke to respect their mother's privacy. Fortunately for the sake of Hawke's curiosity, she wasn't Bethany.

Slowly cracking open the cover, her heart immediately dropped to her stomach. The sight of her mother's familiar and elegant handwriting wrenched at her chest. She took a moment to trace her fingers over the swirling letters, trying to imagine what her mother might have looked like years ago, curled up by a fire and spilling her thoughts onto the paper.

The journal appeared to have been started around the time Leandra had met Malcolm. Hawke couldn't help but laugh as she read, enjoying the similarities between Bethany and their mother in her youth. Leandra had been smitten and full of exuberance; the thrill of new love was almost palpable through her writing.

Smiling, she continued to read of her parent's adventures: secret midnight meetings, afternoon picnics, swimming on the Wounded Coast; their story was a cliché romance novel straight out of Varric's imagination, though mercifully, less graphic.

Alas, with the unanswered mysteries still pending about her father, Hawke wondered how much her mother might have been viewing events through rose-colored glasses.

Still, Hawke was enraptured by the intimate look into her parents' lives, and a bittersweet ache filled her soul. She would never speak to either of them again, but this window allowed her to feel connected to them again, even if only in a limited way.

Her sight blurred slightly with tears as emotions began to overtake her, and she had to stop reading. Placing the open book down in her lap, she turned her gaze out to the ocean, and took a long drag from the bottle of wine. Once again, she found herself searching for solace in the open sea.

The sun was just setting beyond the horizon, and the stars had already begun to glimmer overhead. The fresh air and salty breeze calmed her senses, and provided a much welcome release from the dank and smoky walls of Kirkwall.

She had sent a letter to Carver a few days prior, from a small port the Siren had docked in overnight. It felt halted and forced, and she wasn't even sure it would reach him. The thought of her brother learning they were all that remained of their family through something as impersonal as a letter left a bitter taste in her mouth. While the idea that Hawke had been unable to protect their mother, just as she had been unable to protect Bethany, was almost more than she could bear. She tried not to imagine the way his expression would fall as he read the news, or how his firsts would clench angrily, crumpling the hastily written note.

She closed her eyes, listening to the raucous laughter from the crew, drunkenly singing and dancing at the opposite end of the ship. A part of her was gone, a piece that would likely never heal, but being at sea, free and unburdened, was helping bring her closer to something that resembled acceptance. She only hoped Carver would find the same peace, if not better.

Looking back out at the calm waters, glowing with the golden light of the disappearing sun, her mind began to wander. Thoughts about the Void and the Maker danced undirected about her head, bouncing off empty walls with an aching curiosity.

She had never been particularly devout, and now she wasn't entirely sure what she believed. She had been raised Andrastian, and spent her life repeating and accepting what she had been taught. Unfortunately, the many glimpses she had into the world around, had only filled her with further questions. She couldn't help but wonder if perhaps no one knew what they were doing, including their so-called Maker. Strangely enough, the thought of mildly systematic chaos was comforting. If everyone was adrift and aimless, were any of them truly lost?

Someone cleared their throat cleared behind her, startling her from her contemplations. She turned her head to face the shadowed prowler, spying Varric with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

"You looking for company?"

"You never need to ask." Hawke slid to the edge of the boxes she had been lounging on, opening up space for her friend.

The dwarf settled himself on the crates, leaning back against the wall next to Hawke and crossing his legs. He sighed, staring out at the increasingly darkening sky, taking a long swig from his bottle.

They sat for a while in contented silence, looking out onto the great sea before them.

"You know where we're going?" Hawke finally broke the quiet.

"Rivaini seems set on Bastion."

"Why do I feel like she has a hidden agenda?"

He chuckled softly, "Because it's Rivaini."

He turned to look at her, clearing his throat and pausing before speaking again, "Are you… uh, you doing alright?"

Hawke considered the question for a moment before responding, "I will be."

"I suppose that's all we can ask for sometimes."

They both took deep pulls from their bottles, listening to the waves softly breaking against the ship.

"Listen Hawke…" Varric paused, keeping his eyes focused on the horizon, "Life can be a real piece of shit some times." Hawke laughed a little at that, allowing him to continue, "It comes at you relentlessly, and just when you think you've found your footing, it greases the floor."

She grunted in agreement.

"I know you must feel like you're in this alone, but I just want you to know that you're not. We're all family, and we'll always be here… I'll always be here." He paused again for another sip of whiskey.

Hawke's throat constricted a little and her eyes watered lightly as she willed herself not to shed any tears. Varric was a singular man, and her best friend. She couldn't ask for anything more in life with him at her side.

"And this is just my two coppers, but Broody is an idiot, and I think he is very aware of that." He drowned out whatever else might escape his mouth with more of his drink.

She hid a small grin, raising her brow, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come on. I practically lie for a living Hawke. You two aren't fooling anyone."

She smiled behind her bottle, taking another sip of wine, "What if I was the one that did something wrong?"

He shook his head laughing, "Hawke, you'd have to be capable of making mistakes if that was the truth, and that really wouldn't fit with the story I've already created. Besides, I'd say the fact that he's still moseying around Kirkwall speaks for itself."

"Yes well, I guess we'll see how long that lasts."

"Well, you know what I think?" Varric stood up on the crates.

"Tell me, wise one." She stared up at him.

"I think we're too good for them."

"Too good for whom?" A smile was spreading further across her face.

"Everyone!" he tossed out his arms, spilling a little whiskey, "You hear that Thedas? You don't deserve us!" He looked down at Hawke, 'Come on, stand with me."

She slowly pulled herself up, standing next to the dwarf.

"Alright: feet shoulder width apart, arms up and wide." He began instructing her, "This is a power pose Hawke, because sometimes you need to assert your dominance on fate."

They were both standing with their arms open, shouting profanities at the sea when Isabela rounded the corner.

"Don't antagonize the sea, children. She's been good to us."

"We're not, we're talking to Fate."

"Ah, well that bitch definitely deserves whatever you've got."

Isabela joined in their insults, adding several colorful ones of her own. They continued to berate the empty space before them with increasing creativity, until finally collapsing in tears of laugher.

After their hysterics had calmed, Isabela stood, dusting the dirt from her legs, "Well, I need to check on the men before they send us to the bottom of the ocean."

"I'll join you. Its always entertaining to see the Captain in action." Varric pulled himself to stand as well.

Hawke saluted the pirate, leaning back on the crates, "Good luck."

They disappeared around the corner, and Hawke sighed in satisfaction, bringing the wine to her mouth. Leave it to Varric to always know exactly what to say. She wasn't sure what life would be like without her best friends, but she was relatively sure it wouldn't be nearly as much fun.

She picked up the journal that had fallen from her lap, turning to the next page, and continued to read. More tales of her mother and father leapt from the paper; a particularly exciting escapade detailed their escape of Kirkwall with the help of a Templar, Carver. She made a mental note to share that new information with her brother. Despite the danger they had faced, she couldn't help but appreciate the daring flight, all in the name of love. It was a story her father had loved to share with his children often, but somehow reading it through this new lens felt different. More personal.

Her eyes finally fell on the date of the passage, and she frowned in thought. The year of their escape marked two into her birth, yet there had been no mention of Leandra's pregnancy or a young Marion. She turned back a few pages, wondering if perhaps she had missed something, but the previous notes revealed no new information. A strange sensation filled her chest as she began to flip through the unread entries, searching for any hint of her existence.

_Nothing_

She stopped her search when she came upon a mention of Bethany and Carver.

The book fell from Hawke's distracted hands back into her lap. How was it that the twins were mentioned and she never was? She snatched the fallen journal, flipping mercilessly through the remaining pages; searching for any sign or explanation, for proof that she had misread her mother's words. Still nothing. The entries became shorter and sparser, until completely stopping after the birth of the twins.

She couldn't rationalize her mother's choice to not mention her birth, or even simply Hawke's mere existence. She and Leandra had always butted heads, but she never imagined her mother regretted her presence to the extent of complete dismissal.

She finally halted her fruitless search. Shutting the book, and setting it down next to her, she couldn't bring herself to look at it again. Malcolm and Leandra appeared to have had many more secrets than they had ever let on, but Hawke refused to remain in the dark any longer. These new mysteries wouldn't stay hidden for long; she was going to get to the bottom of them, starting with the Templar, Carver. The man had supposedly helped her parents escape Kirkwall. If he were still around, surely he would have some answers. Until then, she needed more wine, and sleep.

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* * *

_._

_A cooling breeze brushed lightly across Hawke's nose. She could hear the muffled steps on a dirt path, and smell the fresh dew of a forest morning. The sensations of Ferelden. Her eyes remained shut, but she could feel the sunlight on her skin, breaking through the canopy of trees above. _

_She was no older than an infant, being carried in the arms of a strange woman. _

_She opened her eyes slowly, with the weighty difficulty of waking from a heavy sleep._

_Once her sight adjusted to the light, she began to focus on the things around her: The smell of pine and wet dirt, the crunch of leaves._

_She looked up towards the figure carrying her. Hawke couldn't make out her face, just the long dark hair that hung around her shoulders, tickling Hawke's face. _

_The woman was humming a gentle, sad tune that immediately put Hawke at ease:_

_'hahren na melana sahlin_

_emma ir abelas_

_souver'inan isala hamin_

_ehenan him dor'felas_

_in uthernera na revas_

_vir sulahn'nehn_

_vir dirthera_

_vir samahl la numin_

_vir lath sa'vunin'_

_A familiar necklace danced in front of Hawke's face, draped around the woman's neck. She reached up with a small hand, grasping for the blue jewel._

_When she finally made contact with the necklace, the word fell around her. She was no longer in a forest, or being held by the woman. She was flying. Soaring through the clouds, too high to make out the land below. Her wings were thick and bright, spanning the sky around her. She felt powerful, free. _

_A chilling laughter brought Hawke from her peaceful meditation. She faltered, dipping lowly for a moment before regaining her balance. But the more she considered that she was flying, the more she lost her control and ease. She continued to sink lower and lower, until she approached the ground at an alarming speed. Hawke began to panic and the cold laughter only increased in volume until it consumed her. _

_The ground was coming faster. This was it._

_She opened her eyes slowly when the sensation of hard earth never came. She found herself laying on the beach of the Wounded Coast. The spot was one of her favorites. The familiarity and solid ground provided some comfort, but her heart still beat uncontrollably from her rapid descent. She spread open her arms, digging her fingers into the cool, soft sand and stretching out her toes. Slow, deep breaths finally eased her mind._

_Pushing herself up to sit, she brought her gaze to the waves that lapped gently at the shore. Her heart skipped. Fenris stood at the water's edge, with his back to her. His bare feet bore into the wet sand, as he stared out into the abyss. She brought herself to stand, taking small steps towards him, afraid he might disappear if she approached too quickly. _

_She stopped just before reaching him, a few arms lengths away. Her breath and heart hitched with unsteady nerves. As if sensing her presence, the elf tensed, before gradually turning around to face her. _

_They faced each other in a heavy silence. Fenris wore a look of disbelief that Hawke was certain mirrored her own. The sight of his earnest green eyes brought an involuntary sob from her throat that she quickly choked back. Without further hesitation he reached for her, pulling her willingly into his arms, and crushing her body against his own. _

_She could feel his uneven breath as he nestled his face against her hair, inhaling her scent. Her body shook without consent, trembling at his touch. She had tried to keep herself from imagining this, from seeing him or thinking of his name, but she couldn't any longer. _

_"Fenris." She breathed the name quietly against his ear, less than a whisper. _

_"I miss you." __His voice was sad, but it was still the low growl she remembered, and it sent a thrill down her spine. _

_His hand moved up her back and through her hair, "You're hair. Its different."_

_Her laugh came out as more of a sob. He studied her intently, lightly tracing the new long scar; beginning at her neck and traveling down her throat and collar. _She wondered what the elf would actually think about the mark and her hair, but she wasn't interested in wasting this dream on her appearance. Instead,_ she laced her fingers through his white strands, pulling his face down to meet her own. _

_When their lips met, it was like a liquid fire burned across her skin. The taste was visceral and intoxicating; she begged to be consumed by its flames further. He released a deep groan, and she took the opportunity to explore his mouth deeper. Though she couldn't imagine a world where her tongue might ever be satisfied. _

_How could this feel so right? How could this simple contact fill her so wholly, like she had never been empty in the first place? She didn't even notice she was crying until the salt from her tears fell to her lips. His grip on her tightened, pulling on her neck and back as if he sought to pull her into himself completely. _

_"I'm sorry." He apologized repeatedly between each languid kiss, his fingers tracing up her arms and around her frame._

_She felt the dream slipping, the clarity blurring away slowly. She grasped him tighter, she didn't want to return to reality. To the place where this hadn't happened, where it might never happen again. To the world where Fenris was hundreds of miles away, even when he wasn't._

_But dreams weren't hers to control._

_._

* * *

.

Hawke shot awake in her bed, drenched in sweat. The warmth of Fenris's palms on her skin faded as she found herself alone once again, with nothing but the cold darkness of her small cabin. She reached for the necklace laying on the small table beside her. The cool metal and stone brought some relief, but the dull, pulsing ache in her chest remained. She laid back in her bed, allowing a dreamless sleep to take her. The now distant visions of her dreams and nightmares, buried themselves further in the back of her mind, until they were forgotten.

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* * *

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"Hawke!" Fenris sat up quickly, calling out her name with a hoarse grunt.

He immediately stood to pace his room, shaking the heavy sleep from his mind. He thought he could still taste the salt from Hawke's tears, but when he rubbed his hands through his face and hair, he realized they had been his own.

The dream had felt so real. It had been a week since Hawke had left Kirkwall, but it felt like a lifetime.

He faced the window a moment before climbing through and up to his roof. High about the quiet city he could finally breathe, but the throbbing in his chest only increased as he watched the darkened window of Hawke's room. He waited every night for a light to appear, and every night he went to sleep disappointed. He wasn't even sure what he would do when the light finally burned again, but those questions were preferable to the definitive answer the dark provided.

He pulled a crumpled note from his pocket, gazing down at the familiar writing:

_I'm okay_

He hoped she was.

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* * *

.

A few days later, the ship docked in Bastion. Hawke, Varric, and most of the crew immediately headed for the closest tavern. Isabela had stayed behind, insisting that she would catch up later.

The pub was dirty, loud, and smelled like the sea. Unlike the clammy, enclosed Hanged Man, the Cane Salato was an almost completely open-air shack. The building boasted little more than a roof and three walls, resting on the edge of a long, questionably stable dock. Judging by the boisterous laughter coming from the pub, they had come just in time for post-work libations.

Varric made his way to the bar while Hawke searched for seats, settling for a mostly intact table. By the time she had stabilized the broken leg with a stray piece of wood, and repurposed two discarded barrels for chairs, Varric was returning with ale.

"This is it Hawke. This is what we need to do." The dwarf sat down, sliding a mug over to her.

"Drink all day? I think Aveline would argue we already do that."

"No, the ultimate pub crawl." He put down his drink, holding up his hand as if displaying the scene in front of him, "Picture it: a pub crawl across Thedas, by land and sea. We will conquer every bar in our path."

She looked at him seriously, "Thirsty Thedas?"

He pointed at her, maintaining a solemn expression, "Yes."

Hawke laughed, leaning back on her barrel, and gazed out at the packed dock. The friendly cacophony was a welcome distraction from her troubled thoughts, but she could only escape them for so long. Her dreams, her waking life, and her family: everything around Hawke was shrouded in mysteries that even her best friend couldn't alleviate.

"Varric?"

"Hawke?"

"If you… started to unravel some things from your past. Lies… ambiguities… Things that didn't look good. Would you continue to pull the string, or just preserve what you have?"

"Does this have anything to do with that?" Varric gestured at the blue gem that hung around her neck. "You can't seem to keep your hands off the thing, and no offence Hawke, but you're not exactly a jewelry kind of woman."

"Oh? What kind of woman am I?" She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow.

He considered her question for a minute before replying, "The kind of woman that is strong enough to handle anything life throws at her. The kind that won't stop until she solves, or destroys any puzzle blocking her way. You also have pretty impeccable taste in company." She laughed, and he continued, "You know you have to pull the string Hawke, and I'll be right beside you the entire time, ready for whatever comes."

"I love you, Varric."

"I love you too, Hawke."

They sat in silence, watching the drunken debauchery that surrounded them. For the first time in weeks, Hawke was feeling something besides the crippling void of loneliness in her soul. She felt warm, and while not necessarily hopeful, at least content.

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* * *

.

The two companions soon lost track of the time and their pint consumption, and stumbled from the pub, singing newly learned songs and calling for their Rivaini friend.

A man emerged from the darkness behind them, "You lookin' for Captain Isabela?"

Varric and Hawke looked at each other and began laughing, "_Captain_ Isabela, so formal."

Hawke just barely caught sight of the small gleam of light from the man's knife before he hurled it towards them. She pushed Varric out of the way, dodging the dagger and sprinted towards the man, crashing into him at full speed. Taken by surprise, he fell with no effort, and Hawke pinned him to the ground. She quickly retrieved a small knife from her boot, pressing it tightly against his throat.

"P-p-please." The man quickly began to blubber in fear.

"I'm only going to ask this one time. Where is she?" Hawke pushed the knife deeper into the man's skin.

"Down by the shipping docks. Third shop from the corner!" The man complied without question.

"That was easy." Hawke thrust her elbow into the man's face, knocking him out, before standing again.

"What has Rivaini gotten into this time?" Varric was dusting off his coat, walking over to Hawke.

"Who knows, but I suppose we'd be bad friends if we didn't find out."

"Good news is: For once, it doesn't have to do with you. No one in their right mind would send a lone man to wrangle _The Hawke_."

"Varric stop. You're making me blush."

.

* * *

.

For all intents and purposes the warehouse appeared closed. The windows were dark, and the surrounding area was empty and desolate. Varric and Hawke snuck around the back alley, prying open a jammed door and moved through the portal silently. Several voices reached their ears as soon as the door shut behind them.

"Listen Sam. I really don't have all night. Either you have it or you don't."

"Oh, it shouldn't be long now."

They found their way through another entrance and out into the main room, following what they now recognized as their friend's voice. Hawke peered over a ledge, down onto the ground floor. Isabela stood in the middle, surrounded by a small group of mercenaries and Teventer mages.

"For fuck's sake, Isabela." Hawke cursed under her breath, ducking back behind the wall to face Varric, who was clearly feeling the same sentiments.

"Where's a Tevinter-hating, glowing elf when you need one?" the dwarf huffed, readying his crossbow.

"Story of my life, Varric."

"Hold!"

Varric and Hawke were both startled back to attention by a loud ominous voice that shouted from across the foundry floor, "You will surrender the relic."

They gazed over the ledge again, spying a pack of Qunari forming their positions from a back entrance.

"This has to be a joke." Hawke sighed.

"I don't have your stupid relic. This idiot does." Isabela crossed her arms, nodding to the man in front of her.

"The bas basra has no honor. Kill it!"

Chaos erupted as mages, Qunari, and mercenaries clashed in the small room.

Hawke and Varric immediately joined in the fray, eager to aid their friend. The man Isabela had addressed as Sam sprinted quickly from the fight, the pirate following quickly after.

"Damnit, Rivaini!" Varric yelled, shooting bolt after bolt from Bianca.

They would have to finish what she started.

.

* * *

.

Bloody but victorious, Varric and Hawke slowly made their way back to the ship. Hawke pushed open the door to Isabela's cabin, stomping in without pause.

"What the fuck, Isabela?"

"Oh, hello." Their friend was reclined comfortably at her desk, a large tome resting in front of her.

Varric shuffled in quickly behind Hawke, shutting the door.

"What in the Void happened back there?"

Isabela ignored the question, and the angered expressions her companions wore, gazing down at the book instead. "This is it. This is the relic I've been looking for."

"We came to help, and you abandoned us."

"Oh, you two were fine." She waved Hawke off, "Besides, I don't recall asking for your help."

Varric and Hawke exchanged looks, sighing.

"Well, what is it?" Hawke gestured at the book, seating herself across from the pirate, still irritated.

"Uh, right. About that…" For possibly the first time since Hawke had known the woman, she seemed nervous. "First, remember that it's going to save my life."

"Noted. Now, lets get to the Tevinter and Qunari ambush." Varric crossed his arms, staring pointedly at Isabela.

"Well…" Isabela cleared her throat, "the relic belongs to the Qunari, and there's a small chance they want it back."

"Do the Qunari look like the sharing type to you? Of course they want it back!" Hawke stood up, grabbing a loose cloth from a chair and began to wipe the grime from her face.

"I've always known what it was. I just didn't want to… worry you. It's a Qunari text. Handwritten by that philosopher of theirs—Keslan, Cousland… Whatever his name is."

"Koslan?" Varric looked from the book to Isabela, his eyes growing wide.

"That's the one!"

"The founder of their religion, the most revered being in their history?" The dwarf collapsed on a stool, rubbing his face in exhaustion.

While Isabela remained unfazed, the statement caught Hawke's attention, "How do you know that?"

Varric looked up, feigning offense, "Hey, I read. Besides, the best lies are half-truths anyway. It pays to know things."

Isabela waved a hand in the air, "Yes well, I stole it from them. They followed me to reclaim it, and it's… maybe why they're still in Kirkwall."

"How did you steal it?" Hawke couldn't tell if Varric was impressed or terrified.

"Getting the relic was easy. I just intercepted a convoy. Getting away was the hard part."

"So, the storm?" Hawke finally turned to face her friends, putting down the dirtied cloth.

"The storm was only half of it. I also had a Qunari dreadnaught stuck to me like a bad rash, spitting fire and thunder at my ship."

"Isabela, if this is all they're after, we have to give it to them. Do you realize how much trouble all of this is bringing to Kirkwall?" Hawke stroked her scar unconsciously, weighing all of the implications of this new information in her mind. Aveline was going to be pissed.

"Don't you understand? The relic is the only thing that will keep this man from feeding me to the sharks!"

"You're going to cause a war!" Hawke slammed her fist down on the desk, "Andraste's tits Isabela, I could give two shits about this prophet, but it's theirs and it's the only thing keeping them from returning home!"

"Do you want me to die, Hawke?"

"Of course not! I can't believe you think I would allow that to happen to you. Don't you trust us?" Hawke couldn't believe what she was hearing. All of this trouble could have been avoided; all of this insanity plaguing their lives and Kirkwall had been the result of petty theft.

Isabela was clearly at her wit's end as well, "It's not your job to protect me! I can't believe you're…" Isabela pushed away from her desk, pacing the room in frustration before coming to a stop in front of a small window. An eery calm coming over her voice, "fine, you're right. I'll return the relic. It'll go straight to the Qunari once we get back. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to be alone."

Varric stood, exchanging troubled looks with Hawke as they left the cabin. This was going to be interesting.

.

* * *

.

An uneasy week later, they were almost to Kirkwall. As they neared the city, an unfamiliar anxiety filled Hawke's stomach. It had been almost three weeks since she had disappeared with little more than a scribbled note, and now she was returning with more questions and a stolen Qunari relic. Maker, her life was certainly not dull.

The ride back had been tense between Hawke and Isabela. Not only did she not trust that the pirate was going to turn over the artifact, but she couldn't believe she had hidden it for this long. Hawke didn't care for the Qunari or the Viscount and their troubled politics. They were pointless clashes of one ideology over another, with no correct answer, and blind stupidity spilling over on both sides. However, knowing that the cure for all of the city's turmoil had been such a simple fix left her reeling.

She also couldn't believe her friend didn't trust her enough for protection. Perhaps her inability to save her own family had in fact been noticed by her companions?

Hawke stood alone on the deck, looking out for a sign of the city on the horizon. She wasn't exactly eager to return home, but she was ready to search for answers about her family. That, and she missed the remainder of her companions she had left behind.

Her heart twitched uncomfortably at the thought of Fenris. She had barely dared to say his name, or imagine his face during her journey, but soon she would have to face him. Or perhaps not? Maybe the elf had left the city in her absence. She couldn't decide which thought she disliked more.

"Fire! Fire in the city!" A shout rang out from above, and a loud bell began to ring, bringing all hands scrambling to the top deck.

Hawke searched the distance, spotting a tall cloud of dark smoke. As the ship's view cleared the mountains of the Wounded Coast, they saw it.

Kirkwall was in flames.

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* * *

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.

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.

Hey beautiful, spectacular people. It's been a while. I'm sorry this one took a bit, the new semester just started up, so its been a little hectic trying to fall into a routine! I'm getting there though. I hope all of you are doing well, and this story is still holding your interest!

This was a shorter chapter, but more is coming and it is definitely not the last adventure on the high sea with our lovely pirate! ; )

Thank you, thank you, thank you for lovely reviews and new following/favoriting of the story! It feels really amazing to get new notifications, and know people are enjoying what I'm putting out there. You are all wonderful!

humphries10: Thank you! I love a good heartache; it makes the happy parts so much sweeter : ) (I don't know whats happening with your username, but for some reason, half of it disappears every time I save my document, sorry about that!)

Dani.777: You're awesome and thank you a million times. I'm really glad you're enjoying it. I really have fun with the battle scenes because I like watching Hawke grow as a fighter. She's human and learning and not just this super infallible powerhouse.

Bottlecap72: More canon divergences to come! : )

Eriaaile: I felt a little bad that people got excited about leaving with Isabela because I knew this part of the sailing adventure was going to be short, but don't worry, its not the last! Yeah, that quest with Hawke's mother is a heavy, weird one, and they dealt with it strangely in the game. It was a big part for my Hawke so I wanted to make it more personal and intense, and slightly unfulfilling. You don't always get to kill the bad guy, and sometimes that's not what you really need anyway. I'm glad the way I wrote it worked better for you than the game! Finally, I'm always happy to give explanations : )


	14. Chapter 14

**Its been so long! Too long! I'm so sorry, and so grateful for anyone picking this back up. I do not plan on stopping this story until its done!  
**

**In an effort to make it easier for everyone to catch-up, I'm going to do a quick chapter-by-chapter recap before jumping into this new one! I'm pretty much only focusing on major plot points and interactions between Fenris and Hawke, so other details are probably be missing. Spoilers ahead, obviously**

**Chapter One:** Fenris and Hawke meet for the first time, and it does not go well. The chapter ends with a tense truce between the characters as Fenris is introduced into the merry band of misfits.

**Chapter two:** After a few weeks, Fenris and Hawke continue to run into fundamentally opposing opinions regarding magic. However, they begin to build a rapport with one another through the use of good old-fashioned alcohol and conversation.

**Chapter three:** Fenris' respect for Hawke grows despite their differences as her actions continue to remind him in small ways that he is no longer a slave.

**Chapter four:** An intense dream involving Flemeth leaves Hawke feeling mentally and physically off. During in an investigation on mages and Templars, Hawke and Fenris find themselves at odds once again. However, when Hawke almost dies, he must face some new realizations about his feelings for the woman. Hawke exhibits a strange power she's never experienced before.

**Chapter five:** Hawke's nightmares continue, and Fenris learns more about Hawke's life and family dynamic. The group finally saves enough for the Deep Roads, and Hawke and Fenris share a moment together.

**Chapter six:** Both Fenris and Hawke try to push aside their feelings for each other, and the Deep Roads expedition begins!

**Chapter seven:** Hawke's nightmares worsen in the Deep Roads after she has a strange encounter with Red Lyrium in which she hears it singing. Bartrand betrays the group, and they have a deadly encounter with a demon. When it seems like Hawke is lost, she manifests a new magic that destroy the demon.

**Chapter eight:** Unsure of what happened, and distracted by a need to escape the Deep Roads, Hawke's strange exhibition are written off by everyone except Fenris and Hawke herself, who both argue over what these strange occurrences could mean. Tensions continue to rise in their ever-increasing desperate situation, and Anders discovers Carver has been infected by the Blight.

**Chapter nine:** They made it from the Deep Roads with treasure and baggage. Carver is a Grey Warden, and Leandra's already strained relationship with Hawke grows even more turbulent. Despite Hawke's angry suggestion that Fenris should leave Kirkwall, he remains. Hawke's role in the city has been slowly increasing, much to her displeasure.

Anders' struggle with Justice appears to be weakening the mage's resolve.

Hawke uses a social event as an opportunity to follow a lead, and winds up causing a scene with Fenris amongst the Kirkwall nobles. Fluff.

**Chapter ten**: Fenris and Hawke have grown very close, and Hawke has been teaching him to read and write. The anniversary of Fenris' escape leads to a drunken night on the roof, and a kiss. Hawke also finds herself wrapped up in one of Varric and Isabela's schemes, and is entered into an underground fighting tournament. She narrowly wins, starts a bar fight, and makes out with Fenris more.

**Chapter 11:** Hawke has some strange interactions in the fade, and all of her companions betray her to a demon (to no ones surprise). The event rattles Fenris, and in the middle of his crisis, slavers from Tevinter attack. Angry with himself, and angry with his past returning to haunt him, Fenris kills Hadriana and picks a fight with Hawke. This chapter has shmutty-mut, smut. Fenris regains some of his memories and has a dream about Denarius killing Hawke. Confused and worried, he pushes her away.

**Chapter 12:** Merrill discovers strange codes in Malcom Hawke's old books that lead to Marion to question many things about her father's life. Marion and Fenris come to a somewhat tense understanding in their unstable friendship. A serial killer murders Leandra, and Hawke faces the blood mage on her own, experiencing her strange magic for the first time since the Deep Roads. Feeling completely alone and like she failed her family, yet again, Hawke runs away with Varric and Isabela.

**Chapter 13:** During her time at sea, Hawke discovers something strange in her mother's journal, which fails to mention Hawke even once before the appearance of the twins. Hawke has a strange dream in which she is a child being carried through a forest by a woman. She then has a strange fade meeting with Fenris before waking. Fenris has the same dream as well. Both all but forget the encounter.

Varric and Hawke discover what Isabela has been up to, and her connection to the Qunari in Kirkwall. They get into a fight and Isabela agrees to return to the city. When they approach the city harbor, a month after disappearing, Kirkwall is on fire.

.

* * *

.

Fenris once again found himself alone in his mansion, an activity he usually enjoyed. Not only was it a rare freedom, but the solitude also gave him ample opportunity to practice his reading and writing. The new studies had become something of an obsession for him, as though each stroke of ink slowly chipped away at his life as a slave. He had even recently used some of Varric's contacts to reach out to his supposed sister. The endeavor had yet to yield any fruit, but for reasons unbeknownst to him, he remained cautiously optimistic. Danarius was still out there, but Fenris was slowly taking back control of his life piece-by-piece.

However, the more often he found himself strolling the Hightown courtyards, even sometimes seeking out the attention of his remaining companions, the more he was forced to conclude that he desired company. And as Hawke's absence stretched on, it was becoming painfully clear that he preferred one person's company in particular.

If Fenris had been asked a mere handful of years ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of having friends. Yet here he was, waiting day after day in this humid and exhausting city, hoping to see the light in her darkened window return. Perhaps once he knew she was safe, he could move on from this place? But did he want to move on? That was the larger question.

He was in the middle of one of these thoughtful preoccupations when the screaming began. Grabbing his sword he rushed downstairs, reaching the first floor just as his front door burst open. Quickly drawing his sword, he pulsed his markings dangerously, only to come face-to-face with a familiar warrior, covered in blood.

"Aveline?"

"Fenris. The Qunari are attacking." She was out of breath and roughly beaten.

"What happened?" he lowered his weapon as she sheathed her sword.

"They were harboring fugitives. I went to speak to the Arishok and…" she trailed off, allowing the screams and rapidly increasing smoke to finish her statement.

"All of the guards I brought are dead."

"Donnic?" Fenris asked; his brow furrowed with concern.

"He…was not there." The warrior answered shortly. A response that also revealed she did not know _any_ information on the whereabouts of her husband.

Fenris nodded before moving towards the door, "This was planned. The Qunari do not act impulsively."

"That much is clear." Aveline followed, "They're organized. They've taken the lower districts, moving towards the Keep."

Fenris turned to face the woman, "What do you need?"

"Go to Hawke's, take everyone through the basement. Merrill and Anders are in the clinic. Get everyone out, to the coast if you can."

"I can do more here." Fenris turned to face the Guard Captain.

"Fenris, we are outnumbered and outmatched. Right now I need as many people safe as possible. Then we can figure out what we're going to do about the rest."

"And you?"

They stepped out into the flaming streets of Hightown together, "I'm Guard Captain, my place is here."

"Aveline—" Fenris began before the woman cut him off.

"My job is to protect this city. Please Fenris, protect our friends."

After a moment of silence, he nodded his head, and they shared one last glance before heading in separate directions.

.

* * *

.

Fenris grabbed the Hawke household, and met Anders and Merrill at the abomination's clinic. From there they moved quickly, and silently. Only just escaping before the severe hand of the Qunari had crushed what was left of the Undercity. Now, isolated on the Wounded Coast, they waited impatiently for news.

Bodahn, Orana, and Sandal quickly set up a small shelter in a shallow cave. Merrill and Anders stood about, lost in thought, while Fenris paced back and forth a few steps away.

"I'm going back." Fenris finally broke the silence.

"Me too." Anders rose from his crouch in the dirt, dusting off his robes.

"I do not need your help."

"Lucky I wasn't offering for _you_ then." Anders began rummaging through his small pack.

"Neither of you are going anywhere." Merrill cut into their bickering, "What if Aveline comes looking for us? Or Hawke?" She gestured over to what remained of Hawke's household, lowering her voice, "and we can't leave them alone out here."

"I will not stand idly by while our city burns to the ground." Fenris began gathering a few loose materials.

"Since when do you even care about this city? Think it'll impress Hawke if she comes back to a champion instead of a squatter?" Anders laughed a little at the idea, still riffling through his bag.

"Do not presume to know what I am thinking, abomination."

"By the dread wolf," Merrill looked between the men, "you two are—,"

The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps immediately silenced their argument. Fenris held a finger to his own lips that Anders attempted to swat down, while Merrill rolled her eyes at the scene.

"Two, moving quickly." Fenris drew his sword, and the mages readied their staves. Merrill ushered the noncombatants further into the small cave before positioning herself opposite Anders. Fenris crept forward swiftly and quietly, hiding himself behind a large, needled shrub. The footsteps suddenly slowed, a caution that indicated they might have heard the camp. They were clearly trained; he would need to act quickly and carefully.

As the pair rounded the corner, Fenris leapt from his hiding place, tackling the nearest form, and rolled with them to the ground. The warrior ended up on top, his markings alight and his hand on their throat. He felt the sharp tip of a dagger placed at his neck as he stared into angry, blue eyes. A deep, bright blue he recognized.

"Hawke." The name fell from his lips.

"What in the Void is going on Broody?" Varric's voice drew Fenris's attention away from the woman beneath him, "We leave for a few weeks, and now Kirkwall is on fire?"

"Hawke, Varric!" Merrill ran from her hiding place, followed quickly by Anders and the remainder of their companions hidden in the cave.

"The Qunari attacked. They've taken the city." Anders answered Varric's question as he approached the group.

Fenris was still on top of Hawke, his skin burning warmly against her own.

"Uh, Fenris?" Hawke grunted beneath his weight. The elf shook his head, quickly shifting off her to stand.

He reached a hand down to help, but she had already pulled herself up beside him. He watched her eyes moved over each of them before she spoke again,

"Good to see everyone. Though, I had hoped we'd be meeting at the Hanged Man," She eyed the hastily set camp, and the lingering smoke from Kirkwall, "but this is… festive, I guess."

"Messere Hawke!" Bodahn jogged up to the woman, stopping just before reaching her. Orana and Sandal were not so cautious. They crashed into Hawke, both speaking at once.

Bodahn cleared his throat, laughing a bit, "I think they're trying to say we enjoyed the letters, messere, and we're glad you're home."

"Letters?" Anders looked between Hawke and Bodahn, "You never mentioned any letters."

"And gifts!" Sandal piped up, eliciting a slightly guilty smile from Hawke.

"No one ever asked." Bodahn shrugged his shoulders innocently, but Fenris saw the quick glance shared between the dwarf and Hawke.

In fact, Fenris seemed to catch everything that was happening because he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Everything about her was different. Her hair was short and severe, and a new scar traveled down from her ear to her neck. Her mouth held a familiar, crooked grin, but the expression didn't reach her eyes, which were distant and tired, lacking their usual mirth. Despite these changes, however she somehow felt immediately familiar again.

"So the Qunari finally attacked?" Varric's question broke Fenris' concentration.

"Why do you not seem surprised?" Anders asked, eyeing the dwarf.

"Ah, there have been a few…fun updates regarding that." He looked over at Hawke to continue.

"Isabela stole their sacred text, and it's the reason they were both shipwrecked in Kirkwall." Hawke quickly summed up what was surely a longer tale, clearly irritated by the pirate's actions.

Fenris' mouth practically fell agape at the news. While it was not a stretch to believe, it was surprising information nonetheless. The Qunari would not respond in kind, but he supposed they had already proven that.

"Well, I assume she's here to fix her mess then?" Anders looked behind the two companions as if he had previously overlooked the pirate.

"Yeah, well… When she set sail in the opposite direction, she sort of put off the impression that wasn't going to happen." Hawke walked away from the group and further into camp. Fenris could see the telling tension in her shoulders, and they way she held her arms across her chest.

"Isabela wouldn't do that. She'll be back." Merrill finally spoke, but with a tone that revealed less conviction than the words used.

Hawke looked sadly at Merrill before forcing a tight smile, "Either way, lets get to planning. She can swoop in dramatically later."

"She would prefer it that way." Merrill smiled weakly in return.

The woman looked around the group again, her eyes narrowing in concern, "Where's Aveline?"

Everyone fell silent, shuffling around awkwardly. Fenris suddenly finding himself unable to meet her gaze. The silence was answer enough.

"She stayed behind, didn't she?" she sighed, and began pacing the ground, "Damn it, Aveline."

Fenris watched as Hawke's mind worked through a plan. It was surreal to see her standing in front of him, her brow creasing as she chewed on her thumbnail. He was happy, guilty, and confused. He wasn't even sure she was pleased to see him, a possibility he needed to prepare for, especially considering their last interaction. Hawke suddenly looked up, catching his gaze before he could look away. She said nothing, and instead turned to address the group,

"Alright, everyone rest up. We're going in tonight."

.

* * *

.

Hawke stood away from the main group while they clustered around a small fire. She held her untouched meal of bread and cheese, staring between the flaming walls of Kirkwall and the dark, restless sea. Isabela was out there somewhere, but the Arishok was here, with Aveline. Her heart pitched for the warrior who had long ago become a sister, but she knew the woman would be fine. Aveline was not just a fighter, she was a survivor.

"Hawke?" Merrill stood a few paces away holding her hands behind her back thoughtfully.

Hawke looked over at her friend, smiling an invitation. The small elf joined her at the overhang, looking out onto the sea.

"I'm glad you came back."

"I was always coming back, Merrill."

"Oh I know, but we missed you." Merrill paused a moment, "Ir abelas, ma lethallan… for Leandra."

Hawke wasn't sure what Merrill had said, but she felt the comfort of her friend's words warm her bones. Leaning her head over to the elf's shoulder, she rested it there lightly.

The women stood in thoughtful silence, listening to the distant crash of waves from the dark below.

"Hawke, what do you think happens when we…?" Merrill let the question hang open, giving Hawke the option to ignore it.

Hawke sighed, "I don't know. Something, I suppose. I've heard some pretty compelling rumors about Andraste's bosom."

Merrill giggled at her friend, saying nothing more.

Hawke's eyes wandered over to her other companions, gathered tensely around the fire. Each independently preparing for the upcoming battle. Her gaze lingered over Fenris. The elf looked so tired. Hawke had to fight the desire to walk over to him and smooth the worried look from his brow.

She wanted to feel nothing when she looked at him, to be causally indifferent to his presence. Unfortunately, as soon as they had touched, she found herself wishing she was with Isabela, far away from here and the fire Fenris ignited beneath her skin. She was upset, and still felt exposed beneath his gaze, a feeling that was unfamiliar to her usually carefully guarded heart. Her feelings for Fenris hadn't lessened, much less changed, and her wounded pride seemed to have healed little in her absence.

"We_ all_ missed you." Merrill cracked a small smile as she followed Hawke's gaze to Fenris, "he looks slightly less like he sat on something sharp."

"Small victories, I suppose." Hawke shrugged her shoulders.

Merrill giggled, smiling mischievously at Hawke, "He's in love."

"With who?" Hawke voiced the question with more accusation than she intended, causing Merrill's grin to widen even more.

The realization of whom Merrill had been referring to washed over Hawke seconds too late, and she silently thanked the dark sky for concealing her awkward flush.

"He looks at you with those sad puppy eyes every time you look away."

She looked at Merrill skeptically, "There are no puppy eyes."

Her friend merely laughed, "Just don't make him smile too much, or his face might crack."

Hawked snorted a quiet laugh, "Trust me, I don't think we're in danger of that any time soon."

Another long silence passed before Merrill turned to face her friend, "It's all right you know? Even you can be happy once in a while."

Hawke mirrored the elf, smiling at her ever-compassionate companion, "Thanks Merrill, but really, I'm fine."

"Daisy, Hawke!" Varric waved them over to the fire, "So, I think we need to call it: Rivaini isn't coming back."

Hawke put her hands on her waist, looking at the ground, "You're right. We need to go in." An explosion set off in the distance, "Sooner rather than later."

Varric turned to the three that had been in the city before the attack, "What's it like down there?"

"They were organized." Fenris answered the dwarf, "Aveline said it began at the Docks, but their agents were already set up in the city."

"Andraste's tits." Varric rubbed his hands through his hair.

"Last I heard they were gathering everyone in the Viscount's Keep."

"So we split up, and hope we meet at the keep." Hawke offered the best solution she could think up.

"Two groups, higher odds." Varric sighed, "Alright, Blondie and Daisy you're with me. Hawke and Fenris, we'll see you there."

Everyone nodded their agreement and they set off quickly and silently into their burning city.

.

* * *

.

The city was quiet despite being engulfed in flames. A strong sense of foreboding soaked the ground and hung heavy in the air. They moved through the nearly empty streets without speaking, nothing but the crackling of burning wood interrupting the silence. Fenris's senses felt like they were searing through his skin. He had waited for Hawke's return every day for the past three weeks, and here she finally was. He was overcome with a tight knot, deep within his chest that manifested both joy and worry. He was frightened, exhilarated, and desperate all at once. Neither seemed to know how to behave around the other, so both remained mute.

Hawke was an unknown, something completely out of his control, and that terrified him. But somehow he knew that she was a risk he would always be willing to take. So, while there were many things Fenris could not be for Hawke, he could be her friend. At least he wanted to try, if she would allow him.

"Maker Fenris, if you're involved in one more of these little Qunari invasions, someone might think you're... up to something." Hawke interrupted his rambling thoughts, peering over her shoulder at him.

Fenris was, perhaps for the first time, relieved by Hawke's deference to humor, "It does seem to be an unfortunate patter-", his words were quickly cut off by Hawke dragging him into a small alley.

Unable to stop his momentum, Fenris roughly crushed her further against the wall in the small space, smacking her head on the stone. He began to open his mouth to voice his confusion when she put her hand over it, shaking her head quickly.

Only once he had focused his thoughts was he able to hear the approaching commotion.

Two Qunari came into view, dragging an unconscious body behind them.

"What do we do with it?"

"Arishok ordered survivors to the Keep for conversion."

Hawke gave Fenris a questioning look, allowing her hand to slide from his mouth. He leaned forward so that he could speak softly into her ear,

"Conversion to the Qun. Non compliance is… not tolerated." He leaned back slightly to see her expression. It had been too long since he had been this close to Hawke, and longer still since he had the opportunity to look into her eyes with longevity. The lyrium on his neck hummed lightly where her hand absently rested.

"Hawke—," he began, but before he realized what was happening, she quickly disappeared from in front of him, moving out into the now vacant passage. She glanced around before motioning for Fenris to follow.

He shook the powerful daze from his head. He needed to focus or they were not going to make it out. They picked up their pace again, continuing towards the Keep.

Hawke held up a hand as they rounded yet another empty courtyard.

"Somethings off." She glanced around, narrowing her eyes to see through the dark and smoke.

Fenris agreed; they hadn't run into a single Qunari since their close call earlier. A shadow rustled above them, but it was too late. Qunari dropped down from the buildings around them; they were completely surrounded.

"Well, shit."

.

* * *

.

Fenris and Hawke moved together instinctually. Their fighting showing few signs of their month apart. Back-to-back, they cut and slashed through the towering warriors. Fenris charged the remaining Qunari as Hawke cast powerful punches of magic from across the courtyard. He fell quickly, and Hawke looked on with a triumphant grin at their easy success.

Adrenalin pumped through her veins, and despite the dire circumstances, she was please to be fighting along side Fenris again. There were few feelings that topped the rush of combat chemistry, and even fewer that Hawke actually cared about.

"Good to see you're not too out of shape." The elf cracked a wry grin, lowering his sword.

A scoff escaped Hawke's mouth, as she placed a hand behind her ear, "I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the heavy breathing. Perhaps you need a moment to catch your breath?"

Fenris' smile widened in the crooked way that Hawke had once been sure was meant solely for her. It filled her with a nervous fluttering that transformed further into discomfort as the smile faded from his face. Hawke turned to scan the area behind her, but before her eyes could focus, a powerful force knocked her back.

Her head smacked the hard cement, and she struggled to center her vision as a blurry figure approached. When she felt the electricity begin to prickle in the thick smog, she no longer need her vision to tell her what they were facing.

Stumbling to a stand, she attempted to move away from the approaching Qunari saarebas. The mage raised his fist in the air, rapidly charging them with a wild pulsing energy, but before he could complete his spell, a sword sliced through the center of his chest. There was a moment of confused silence as the saarebas slid limply to the ground, revealing the towering figure of a woman in templar armor.

She reached out a hand, pulling Hawke to stand just as Fenris came running up beside them.

"I am Knight Commander Meredith." Her eyes slowly narrowed at the two, "I know you."

"Hawke!" Anders' voice shouted from behind, bringing everyone's gaze to the small group running to meet them.

Meredith sighed as Varric, Merrill, and Anders joined them, "I know all of you. The name Hawke has passed over my desk many times… but that doesn't matter now." She turned to face the steps leading to the Keep's entrance, "the Qunari are—,"

Hawke cut her off, "We know. We need to get inside before this gets a lot worse."

Meredith turned to face Hawke, mild annoyance coloring her face; "You're exceedingly well informed for someone who has been missing for almost a month."

Hawke crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly to inspect the woman; "_You're_ exceedingly well informed for someone I just met."

Meredith ignored the accusation, "The Guard Captain, is stationed ahead. We'll discuss a plan there."

The knight commander walked away briskly, before stopping to turn around, "I'll ignore your use of magic… for now." She continued her march.

They all remained stationary, watching the Knight Commander charge on.

Varric groaned, scratching the bridge of his nose before placing his hands on his sides, "that definitely does not seem like its going to play out in our favor."

.

* * *

.

Hawke quickly embraced Aveline under the suspicious eye of the Knight Commander.

"Don't ever leave like that again." Aveline whispered threateningly into Hawke's ear, squeezing her friend briefly before letting go.

A man Hawke recognized as the First Enchanter approached the newly arrived group. Meredith stepped out to see him, "Orsino. You survive."

"You're relief overwhelms me Knight Commander." Orsino's tone dripped with sarcasm, and barely contained anger.

"Good, now that we're here, the Qunari are—," Aveline began her debriefing before she was abruptly interrupted by Meredith.

"There is no time for talk. We know what the Qunari are doing. We must strike back."

Orsino immediately began arguing with the templar commander,

"And who will lead us into this battle? _You?_" His brow furrowed in poorly concealed disgust.

Meredith pointed an accusing finger at the elf, "I will fight to defend this city as I have always done!"

"You two bicker like children while our city burns!" Aveline cut into the argument, silencing them immediately, "Templars, tonight you will fight with the city guard. We'll make a frontal attack while the mages distract from the flanks."

The templars glanced nervously at their Knight Commander. Her eyes hardened, narrowing squarely on Aveline. The Guard Captain seemed to stand taller beneath the burning glare. Finally, Meredith nodded tightly in agreement, ending the tense pause, and encouraging everyone to move into position.

"_Shit_." Varric whispered to a grinning and disbelieving Anders.

Hawke was dancing a small jig when Aveline approached their small group, startling them all to attention.

"That's distasteful Hawke." Aveline said, crossing her arms and looking on disapprovingly, before continuing, "I need you to use our distraction to get in there. The Arishok seems to trusts you… sort of." The warrior looked as though she might suddenly be regretting her decision to trust Hawke, "Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"Are you coming with us?" Hawke asked, despite knowing the answer.

Aveline put her hand on her friend's shoulder, "I'll see you inside."

Hawke returned the gesture, "I'll try to save some Qunari for you."

Aveline laughed a little as she walk away, "Don't do me any favors."

.

* * *

.

With the ample distraction provided by the mages and templars, Hawke and her company were able to easily pass through the doors of the keep. They pushed through the fight quickly, and without stopping Hawke thrust open the doors to the throne room. Strolling in lazily, she sidestepped was what clearly the Viscount's severed head, cursing under her breath.

"Arishok!" Hawke shouted as she entered, claiming the room's attention. A hush settled over the worried crowd as Hawke and her small band strolled through the room, coming to stop at the foot of the grand stairs. "You threw a party and didn't even think to invite me?"

The Arishok turned to face her, "Shanedan, Hawke. I expected you. But, for all your might, you are no different from these bas. You do not see."

"This madness will end." Hawke stood her ground as the menacing Qunari leader slowly descended the stairs, coming to a stop in front of her.

He paused a moment, as if sizing up the woman before speaking again, "Perhaps."

He stepped back, "Prove yourself, basra, or kneel with your brethren."

A group of seven lumbering Qunari warriors descended upon them. Without pause, Hawke gripped the daggers attached to her back, and in one movement, twirled them from their sheaths to slice the neck of the Qunari that reached her first. He fell hard as Hawke twisted herself around, using her momentum to send her right dagger through the stomach and lungs of another warrior whose quick steps she heard approached from behind.

When the last body hit the ground, a disbelieving silence settled on the room.

The Arishok approached the bloodied woman quickly, surprise and respect coloring his voice, "Parshara! You are basalit-an after all. Few in this city command such respect."

He draped his huge axe lazily on his shoulder, "So tell me Hawke, you know I cannot withdraw. How would you resolve this conflict?"

A commotion at the back of the room broke the quiet tension, calling everyone's attention to the entrance. A nervous and disbelieving laugh bubbled from Hawke's throat as her gaze settled on a triumphant looking Isabela, standing at the opposite end of the room. In the pirate's hand was the Tome of Koslun.

Hawke felt a rush of relief wash over her at the sight of her friend.

"I believe I can answer that." Isabela strode forward confidently, handing the tome directly to a silent Arishok, "I'm sure you'll find it… mostly undamaged."

She turned a smirk on Hawke, "It took me a while to get back. You know… with all of the fighting everywhere." Isabela's tone exuded confidence, but Hawke could spot the anxiety brimming just beneath the surface of her friend's calm demeanor.

"Isabela, I believe you're lost. The ocean is that way." Hawke pointed behind them.

Isabela rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips, "This is your damned influence, Hawke." She chuckled, looking at her feet as if still disbelieving she was there, "I was halfway to Oswick when I knew I had to turn around. It's pathetic."

The Arishok handed off the tome, finally speaking, "The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen." Hawke and Isabela exchanged pleased looks before he continued, "With the thief."

"What?" Isabela and Hawke yelled in unison.

"You thought you could strand them here for four years without consequence?" Fenris asked, disbelief shading his voice.

"Not the time, Fenris." Hawke turned around to silence the elf.

"She stole the Tome of Koslun. She must return with us." The Arishok repeated his demand, with no sign of relenting.

Hawke stepped between her friend and the Arishok, pushing Isabela back, "You have your relic. She stays with us."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll take that well." Hawke heard Varric muttering behind her, "Rivaini, you might wanna move a bit this way." Varric grabbed the pirate, pulling her towards the safety of their group.

The Arishok made no move towards Isabela, instead keeping his eyes on Hawke, "Then you leave me no choice. I challenge you Hawke, to a duel. You and I will battle to the death with _her_ as the prize." He pointed to Isabela with his massive axe extending past Hawke's face.

Hawke closed her eyes, groaning beneath her breath, as the crowd she had almost completely forgotten about gasped.

"No!" Isabela tried to push forward, but was held back by Anders and Merrill, "If you're going to duel anyone, duel me!"

"You are not basalit-an. You are unworthy." Fenris finally spoke, his voice strangely quiet.

Hawke took a deep, centering breath before speaking again, "Okay. Lets do this."

"So shall it be. Gather yourself." The Arishok turned away leaving Hawke with her companions.

"Hawke, no. You cannot do this." Isabela pleaded with a determination that only served to worry Hawke further.

Merrill attempted to soothe Isabela, but was clearly shaken herself, "Its okay, bela. Hawke will be fine. She always is."

Varric and Anders stood in front of Hawke, a hand on each shoulder, and pulled her into a hug, "Don't worry Hawke, you're going to be fine." Varric calmed her nerves.

"And if you're not. We're right here to step in." Anders whispered from her other side.

"Exactly. We have no respect for the sanctity of a duel." They pulled away from each other.

"And Hawke, say something awesome when you deliver the killing blow. I don't want to have to think up something later. Try to pull your own weight a little." Varric smiled tightly at his best friend.

Next was Fenris, he approached her quickly, but came to a sudden stop before reaching her, "Keep moving."

"What?"

"If you can just stay out of reach you will wear him down. Your speed is unmatched. Use it."

"Right. Thanks." Hawke continued to take deep breaths, bouncing on her toes a bit.

She finally looked into his eyes, stilling her motions. The air was heavy and awkward, and Hawke wanted nothing more in that moment than to erase everything that had happened between them and to start over. Instead, she reached for him silently and pulled him into a tight hug. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly, pulling her further into him. His warmth brought a rush of soothing familiarity over her body, and she wanted nothing more than to melt into his embrace and stay there. She closed her eyes, listening to his controlled breath on her ear.

"Keep moving." His voice was little more than a whispered plea.

His markings pulse beneath her skin as she slowly pulled away, and looked into Fenris' deep, green eyes one last time before turning to face the Arishok.

"Alright, lets do this."


	15. Chapter 15

The entire room cried out as the spear that topped the Arishok's axe skewered Hawke's side. The pain was unimaginable; she would have cried out too had she possessed any more strength. Her survival thus far had been almost completely contingent on how quickly she could run in circles around the Arishok. Fenris had likely not imagined such an undignified scene when he had suggested the plan. Unfortunately, her luck had come to a spectacular end when a swipe of the Arishok's axe had caught Hawke's calf. The wound had been the beginning of her undoing. Now, she was a shish kabob.

From the corner of her eye, she could just barely see her companions drawing their weapons; ready to disrupt the duel. She needed to finish this.

Bowing her head, she focused all of her energy into her magic, something she had miraculously avoided using thus far. In only moments she could feel a familiar pricking in the air, as massive amounts of energy stirred in her palms. A bright, yellow light pulsed wildly through her arms and down the Arishok's axe while the room watched on in frozen silence.

The ribbons of energy quickly wrapped themselves around the Arishok's body, ensnaring his limbs like vines. The great Qunari warrior struggled against the constraints, viciously swinging Hawke off the tip of his weapon. Her limp body was thrown a few paces away, and blood immediately began to pour from the gaping wound.

She sat up slowly, pushing past the searing pain, and tried to prepare herself for the approaching onslaught.

The Arishok struggled towards her, slowed by exhaustion.

"You… are saarebas?" he made no attempt to shield his disgust at the revelation.

Hawke said nothing, both as an act of defiance, and because she wasn't quite sure that she was able to formulate words, much less coherent sentences.

When Hawke failed to respond, his eyes hardened, "The Qun demands your death." The Arishok turned to the remaining Qunari warriors that surrounded them, "Kill this bas saarebas!"

Apparently, the duel was off. As the Qunari warriors closed in, her heart pumped frantically with fear. This might be it for her, but she was not going to allow anyone else she loved to die.

Struggling onto a knee, she hastily pooled the energy that coursed wildly through her veins. The energy felt foreign and erratic in a strangely familiar way. She had felt this before, both the night Leandra had died, and in the Deep Roads. The intense pull of the fade entwined with the energy in her blood, and for a moment she felt as though there was no separation between the two.

She steadied herself, bringing her eyes to face the approaching Qunari, catching a glimpse of fear as it flashed through his gaze. Something deep inside her pulsed in elation, feasting upon the great warrior's terror with delight, but in an instant the feeling was gone.

When the Arishoke finally reached her, he wrapped his large hand around her neck, and raised her high above the ground. He tightened his grip, crushing her throat slowly as the other Qunari closed in around them.

_Now or never_

Hawke reached for the great warrior, wrapping her hands around the Arishok's arm and neck. Her dangerous magic burned quickly into his skin as a great orb of light grew between them. A moment of confusion passed over the warrior's face before an explosion of energy rocketed between them and throughout the room, pushing everyone to the ground.

After a moment of darkness, the room began to pulse brightly around Hawke as her vision returned. Her body ached, and a loud ringing whined relentlessly in her ear.

"_Fuck."_

The curse fell lazily from her lips, as she tried to orient herself. It occurred to her she was on her back looking up at the ceiling as the muffled cacophony of confusion slowly erupted around her. She made no effort to move however, choosing instead to embrace the cool numbness slithering up her limbs. In fact, she had just decided to close her eyes for a quick nap, comfortably slipping into the quiet dark, when a sudden feeling of fire erupted on her skin. The pleasant cooling sensation was quickly replaced with an incessant burning that rapidly moved its way up her legs and back.

She was about to cry out when rough hands wrapped themselves around her shoulders. The sound died on her lips as she looked up into Fenris' green eyes above her, and she smiled lazily at the elf. Suddenly remembering he had awoken her from a nap, she struggled to move from his grasp, but he held firm.

She whined, twisting weakly away from him as he spoke to her in a comically slow tone that did nothing but elicit laughter from Hawke's lips. She wasn't sure what she found so hilarious, but the elf's exacerbated reactions were only making it worse.

His brow furrowed in irritation, an expression she enjoyed even more.

It wasn't until a thick, fermented substance found itself into Hawke's mouth, that she realized her other companions surrounded her as well.

Anders was rapidly working on her wounds while Merrill had been sifting through his large bag, applying potions and poultices to Hawke's wounds.

"Ugh!" Hawke coughed and sputtered the dark blue liquid back up immediately. She opened her mouth to speak, voice strained, "If that's medicine, then let me die."

Merrill rolled her eyes and turned for another bottle while Anders spoke up from her other side, "Hawke, drink it. It'll keep you from bleeding out." Anders was sweating as he worked furiously, "Maker, I think his weapon was poisoned."

"That would explain the burning." Hawke said to no one in particular, looking up at the ceiling.

"What? Burning?" She could hear Anders asking more questions, but instead of responding, she dropped her head away from the worried mage, lolling it around lazily and examining the rest of the room.

Everything around Hawke felt strangely bright and woolly. The voices and faces of her companions expanded and deflated slowly, encouraging even more laughter to bubble from her lips, bringing a warm liquid with it. She raised her hands to her lips, pulling them back to reveal blood. Fenris and Anders exchanged worried looks, and somehow even in this state, she knew their lack of bickering meant something serious.

"Keep her awake. We need to get her home." Anders instructed Fenris and Varric, sending Isabela and Merrill ahead to ready Hawke's room.

Hawke felt Fenris's arms move beneath her and around her back, carefully hoisting her up. She rested her head against his shoulder, feeling him tense as she snuggled closer into his neck. She couldn't find the will to be embarrassed, feeling the sudden urge to sleep again.

"Hey, buddy," Varric's voice rang out from her left, keeping her from her comfortable slumber, "You gotta stay awake because we really need to talk about your death-blow words. What'd you say?"

She turned her head over limply to look at her best friend, furrowing her brow, "Oh shit, I totally forgot."

The dwarf sighed dramatically, "I knew you would. I'll just have to come up with something." He squinted one eye, staring up as though he was sifting through some sort of mental catalog, "How about: T_his is your Qun to go_." He nodded excitedly at Hawke, raising and lowering his eyebrows rapidly, "Get it? Like cue to go? _Qun _to go."

"I'd keep working on that one." Hawke deadpanned. Whatever medicine or poison coursed through her veins removed all sense of decorum, not that she possessed much anyway.

She felt Fenris release a quick bark of laughter over the top of her hair.

Varric waved them both off, "You've been hanging out with Broody too much. Qun to go is gold."

Just as they were nearing the exit from the throne room, scattered voices began to ring out, "The Qunari are dead! She did it! She saved us!" More voices joined the cries as other people finally began to regain their bearing, and cheers and applause erupted around them.

"Is that for me?" Hawke's smiled a bloody grin up at Fenris.

"No." Fenris answered quickly, keeping his gaze forward, but a small that twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed his true sentiments.

"Yeah Hawke, you must have been sleeping when it happened, but Rivaini came in last minute and saved us all." Varric goaded.

Hawke's bloody smile widened even more, as she allowed her head to fall back, relishing in the cheers that surrounded them. She had just settled into a comfortable position, when she was jolted awake by Fenris' sudden halt.

"Where do you think you're going?" A hush washed over the grand room as Meredith finally made it to the battle.

Hawke watched through blurred vision as the Knight-Commander and her templars moved to block their exit.

Before anyone could react, Aveline also appeared, pushing past the templars and into the room, followed closely by a small pack of fierce looking guards.

"Could have used your help back there, Knight-Commander." Aveline's said tightly, narrowing her eyes at Meredith.

"You and your guards obviously handled yourselves." Meredith's tone revealed some disappointment.

"Avelin*UURP*e!" Hawke's excited call after her friend was briefly interrupted by a large, deep belch. Blood from her mouth flew onto the nearest templar, splattering a few drops over his face. Hawke realized in that moment that she had never truly seen a look of disgusted horror until now. The templar moved a shaking hand to wipe the gore from his face, while Varric struggled to both breath and control his laughter.

Hawke could see Aveline desperately trying to not roll her eyes as she glanced between the templars and her bleeding friend. Instead, she sheathed her weapon before calmly speaking again, "Excuse us, Knight Commander. We have a patient in need of immediate medical attention."

Meredith refused to relent her position, "What you have is a dangerous mage that belongs in the Circle. We will see to her injuries."

Hawke wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but she felt Fenris' grip tighten around her body, the low hum of his markings buzzing threateningly beneath his armor.

"Oh for the love of—," Anders stepped towards the Knight-Commander, ready to argue before Aveline cut him off, placing herself directly in front of Meredith.

"Get _out_ of our way." Each word was said slowly and deliberately; with such confidence that even the Knight-Commander seemed to hesitate.

"The city has been saved!" a lone cheer rung out about the room, inciting the return of excited cheering from all around. A brief look of horror passed over the Knight-Commander's face as the room began to chant a name.

"Hawke! Hawke! Hawke!"

The glare from Meredith was cold and menacing as she begrudgingly moved from the portal and allowed them to pass, "This is not over."

The motley crew quickly retreated from the room, the excited cheering growing faint as they moved out onto the streets of Kirkwall.

.

* * *

.

"Alright, so good news or bad news, Hawke?" Varric sat in a large chair next to Hawke's bed shuffling through the pile of letters that had built up in her month away. Only a week had passed since her fight with the Arishok, and reactions from the city had been. . . mixed.

"Bad first." Hawke sprawled out on her bed, reclined against her backboard with an arm cast over her eyes.

"You are officially under house arrest per orders of Knight-Commander Meredith. That little glowing and exploding trick apparently _did not_ go over well with the templars."

Hawke sighed, sliding down the backboard and rolling onto her stomach, "And here I was hoping the templar downstairs was actually a stripper hired by Isabela."

"Cullen? You know him."

"A woman can dream, Varric." Hawked waved off her friend, "Now what's the good news?"

The dwarf cleared his throat dramatically and straightened his jacket, "The city has named you The _Champion of Kirkwall_."

She lifted her head from the mattress, raising an amused brow at the dwarf.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Fate is a fickle mistress, my friend."

Laying her face flat against her mattress she released a muffled yell, before speaking again, "Okay, I think I'm done for today."

Varric set the stack of letters onto the floor before leaning back in the armchair, "Don't worry. We're going to sort this whole shit storm out."

She looked up and smiled faintly at her friend before turning over. Staring up at the ceiling, she thumbed the turquoise stone around her neck, "Speaking of shit storms, could you find some information for me? I need anything on a Templar Carver Maurevar. Should have been around Kirkwall about... twenty to thirty years ago."

"Carver, eh?" he said the name slowly, looking like he wanted to ask more before thinking better of it, "I've got a few contacts I can probe."

Varric stood from his chair, gathering his coat and papers before speaking again,

"You know, as Champion, you're going to need a new getup." He tilted his head towards her armor.

Hawke pushed herself off the bed, strolling over to her display; the only organized portion of her room.

She stroked a gauntlet, "That sounds like an excellent idea. What do you think, something with feathers or fur?" She held up a piece against her arm, showing it off to the dwarf.

"Why stop at two animals? You're the Champion now, throw at least three or four more on there."

She laughed, placing the leather piece back down on the table. Narrowing her gaze, she examined the armor curiously. She didn't remember cleaning them after the fight, but here they were, unblemished as the day she had purchased them. She trailed a hand over the pieces, studying their meticulous placement. A small smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, as she identified the culprit.

_Fenris_

Besides Aveline, the elf was the only other companion Hawke had that treated his armor with equal reverence. They had easily spent hours together after battles, drinking and scrubbing the blood from their weapons and attire. Hawke had picked the habit up from her father. Fenris attributed the routine to his life as a slave. The ritual had been one of the few that was his own, benefiting no one but himself.

"Do I need to leave you and your armor alone?" Varric's voice startled Hawke back to reality and she struggled to control the fresh blush burning on her ears.

"You know," Varric chuckled a bit as he spoke, "your ears, which are huge might I add, turn bright red whenever you're embarrassed."

Hawke looked at him momentarily taken aback, "No they don't."

She reached up to touch them with her hands, not bothering to contest their size, which she knew to be a true statement.

He laughed harder, "Yeah, they do. If you're keeping the short hair, you're going to need to up your game face, my friend."

"You're an asshole." Hawke attempted to cover her ears, laughing at Varric's mirth, even if it was at her expense.

"Hold on, hold on. I want to test it out." He put his coat on the bed, rubbing his hands together excitedly. Hawke watched his eyes dart around the room before resting on a small vase of daisies that sat on her nightstand.

She groaned internally. Like the armor, Fenris had left the flowers, something she had learned from an eager Orana yesterday.

"Who are the flowers from?" The smile on his lips told Hawke he already knew the answer.

"Not sure." Hawke walked towards her window, "Probably Orana." She didn't want to talk to Varric about it for the same reasons she wasn't sure she wanted to talk to Fenris. She wasn't sure how she felt. Everything in her life was overwhelming. Fenris didn't seem to want to speak either, considering both of these acts had been done without her knowledge.

"You know you and the elf are going to have to talk about your shit, sooner or later." Varric picked his coat back up again.

Hawke turned to face the dwarf, placing a hand on her hip, "Hey Varric, tell me about Bianca again?"

He raised his hands in defeat, "Touché, my friend."

He moved towards the door, "Alright, so information on a templar, and drinks Friday?"

"I can't get drinks. I'm under house arrested."

"We'll bring the alcohol and people to you." Varric turned the handle, opening the door.

"Perfect. I could use more company besides that stick-up-his-arse guard."

"You just said you wished he was a stripper." The dwarf gestured over his shoulder with his thumb.

"I have a lot of conflicting feelings, Varric, it's exhausting."

"I'll suggest he make a career change on my way out."

"You're doing Andraste's work, my friend." Hawke saluted the dwarf lazily, turning to sort through the papers on her desk.

Isabela sauntered into the room almost as soon as Varric had left.

"Maker's balls! I'm never going to be alone again." Hawke whined, abandoning her papers.

"We need to talk."

She raised her brows, waiting for the pirate to continue,

"Everyone else can tip-toe around like an Orleasian prince, but we know better. Waiting won't help." The pirate was pacing the room, "We already know that Merediths only got one oar in the water, and you just took her title. She'll be out for blood."

"So you have an idea?" Hawke crossed her arms and leaned against her desk.

"Yeah, you and me. Let's get the fuck out of Kirkwall."

"Bela, maybe we should spread the disappearing acts out a bit."

"You're no fun." Isabela plopped herself unceremoniously on Hawke's bed, and began fiddling nervously with a blanket.

Hawke eyed her silent friend a moment. There was still a lot unsaid between them, but she wasn't sure she had the strength to begin drudging the mess up now. First Bethany, then carver, her mother, Fenris, the Qunari, and now Meredith, to add to the growing pile of concerns on her mind; Hawke was beginning to think her life might be one horrific practical joke. She was simply tired of feeling.

Before Isabela could spill whatever was clearly plaguing her mind, Hawke turned to face her desk. She pulled open a small drawer, extracting its only contents—an unopened bottle of whiskey.

Turning to face the pirate, she held up the bottle, shaking it from side-to-side and wagging her brows.

A devilish smirk crossed Isabela's face as she reached for the whiskey.

One bottle of wine (the origins of which neither women remember), and half of a bottle of whiskey later, both women were exceedingly intoxicated. Hawke lounged limply across the legs of the large chair, while Isabela began to pace again behind her. The pirate looked uncomfortable for possibly the first time in their five-year friendship.

"Bela, your withholding is giving me anxiety. Spit it out."

Isabela sat herself on the edge of Hawke's bed, "I wanted to talk to you… and thank you for, you know, not giving me to the Qunari." Her feet tapped uncomfortably on the ground so she stood again instead, sauntering over to the window. "Shit, the whole city owes you a pint."

"Well, if I had given you up, then you wouldn't be able to take me to the best hat shops."

"Oh, shut up. You saved everyone."

"No, I almost killed everyone. The relic was the only thing that helped. Sort of."

"Bullshit." Isabela turned from the window, "The relic was what started everything. You could have taken them from the start." She began pacing the room again mumbling to herself, "You and Aveline. I mean look at her—she's a woman-shaped battering ram."

Hawke swung her feet to the floor and stumbled slightly towards her rambling friend, "The relic didn't start anything, Bela, _stealing_ the relic did." The accusation fell drunkenly from her mouth, and with that, the floodgates opened.

"Not this again." Isabela released an annoyed huff, rolling her eyes.

"What do you mean not 'this' again? It's only _this_. Your actions have consequences. People died, I was stabbed. I'm under watch of the fucking Templars!" She waved her hands about wildly.

The pirate pushed her away drunkenly, "Oh, you get stabbed at least once a day Hawke. You're just annoyed because you don't want the responsibility of being _Champion of Kirkwall."_ Isabela said the title mockingly.

This was getting out of hand quickly, but Hawke was too drunk to care.

"The word responsibility coming from your mouth is a bad joke. You have no idea what I'm thinking."

"Why? Because the great Champion could never relate to a lying, thieving snake like me?"

"That's an insult to lying, thieving snakes." Hawke crossed her arms, unnecessarily proud of her comeback.

"Ass." Isabela grabbed the near empty bottle, and turned for the door, "I'm taking this."

The pirate trudged from the room, running directly into Aveline.

"Oh great. Two prigs, one room." Isabela slurred a little, spinning around the captain and continuing towards the stairs, "that's the name of your erotic novel. Spoiler: its not as sexy as the title would imply!"

Aveline turned to face Hawke, her confusion quickly melting into disapproval as she saw Hawke's own drunken state.

"Want to talk about it?"

Hawke didn't know why she had started a fight with Isabela, but now she was left feeling annoyed and belligerent, "No, I do not want to talk about it," she dismissed Aveline with a wave, "I'm so fucking tired of _talking. _I'm drunk, sore, and bored." She stomped around her room searching for more to drink, "All I want to do is—"

"Run away again?" Aveline calmly leaned on the door-frame, ending Hawke's rant before it began. "Is that what you want, Hawke? Because the last time I checked, you haven't talked about a damn thing." The warriors voice was cool, but demanding.

"Andraste's tits, why am I such a popular subject? I thought you of all people would understand, Aveline. You've lost people too."

"I do, Hawke, and so does everyone else. We've all lost something, we're all grieving." Aveline approached Hawke from across the room, "Life has thrown a bucket of shit your way, but you're not sorting it out. You're holding everything in, and running away. It seems to be your specialty these days. Its sloppy, and it will get you killed."

"I never asked for any of this! I just want to be left alone." Hawke knew the argument was juvenile, but she was too drunk to care.

"Tough shit. You're important whether you want to be or not. Your choices have an effect-."

"Fuck you Aveline. You don't know the beginning of it." Hawke cut her off.

"If I don't know, its because you shut me out, Hawke!"

A light rain had begun tapping the windows outside, and wind blew quietly through the cracks as silence settled between the women.

Hawke sighed, defeated by exhaustion. She loosely wrapped her arms around her stomach, keeping her back still turned from her friend, "I'm so lost."

After a long moment, she felt the warrior's hand rest lightly on her shoulder. Both women remained silent.

Hawke finally turned and pressed her face into Aveline's shoulder as the warrior's arms pulled her in to a protective embrace.

"I miss them all so much." Silent tears began to spill from Hawke's eyes, "I have so many questions…" she trailed off, thinking about everything that had happened, "I'm just not sure I know who I am." All of the confessions spilled out at once.

"Well, I may not know much, but I do know that you're Marion Hawke. All of the other details are up to you."

She wasn't so sure about the truth behind Aveline's words, but she enjoyed the sentiment either way.

.

* * *

.

Hawke tried to follow the rules. At least she had this time. She waited about three and a half days under house arrest, before sneaking out. Her time at the Amell estate hadn't been entirely painful. She had spent most of it bothering Cullen, and when embarrassing him had grown old, they had played chess. She couldn't help but like the man. In many ways, he was just as lost as the rest of them. Running from a past he wanted to forget, into a future he didn't understand.

Cullen had beaten her three excruciating times before she finally gave up, and retired to her room. After she was sure the Templar had returned to the library, she opened the creaking window and slipped out onto the roof. The cool night air blew through her hair, wafting with it the familiar scent of fire and smoke from the foundry district. The smell was all at once comforting and gut-wrenching. It carried with it memories both happy and painful. It was the smell of home, and somehow when she hadn't been looking, that was exactly what Kirkwall had become.

She hadn't had the opportunity to stretch her legs properly since her injury, so she sprinted freely through the city with glee, no question in her mind of where she was headed.

She made it to the Hanged Man in what she would later tell Varric was record time, but honestly she had lost track, somewhere in Hightown.

Instead of entering through the front, she shimmied up the side of the tavern, through the small window that led to Varric's suite. Tumbling in somewhat unceremoniously, she straightened herself up only to find Isabela. The pirate was leaning back in a chair, her feet propped up on the table, and a long pipe extending from the corner of her mouth.

"Well that saves me a lot of trouble." Isabela drawled, slowly dragging her feet from the table to the floor.

"Isabela—" Hawke started before the pirate cut her off, standing from her seat and walking towards her.

"Listen, I know we're both pretty bad at this. So, lets just rip this bandage off and get back to drinking."

Hawke nodded her head, indicating for Isabela to continue.

"First, I just want to say, I'm glad you walked into the Hanged Man all those years ago."

A small smile played on Hawke's face, "I was drawn in by the intoxicating aroma of stale piss and vomit."

Isabela snorted a bit as she laughed, before evening her tone, responding slowly, "You were right about everything. I'm sorry."

Hawke reached out a hand to her friend's arm, "You were right about me, too. I'm sorry."

"Oh, come here you—" Isabela pulled Hawke into a tight hug.

They both jumped when they felt a third pair of arms slip around them.

"What the—" they opened their eyes to see Merrill gazing up at them with a gleeful grin.

"Oh, I love happy reunions." Sometime during their conversation, the small elf had crept into the room and snuck up on the pair.

Merrill squeezed them tightly, "and now I get to see two in one night."

"What do you mean two?" but no sooner had the question left Hawke's lips, then Varric and Fenris entered the room, each carrying several mugs of ale.

The fluttering that erupted in Hawke's chest at the sight of the elf caught her by surprise, resulting in the warming of her ears and neck.

"Daisy! You were supposed to help carry—Hawke!" Varric trailed off from his original statement at the sight of his friend, "Well, now it's a party!"

The room fell quiet.

"I should—"

"Actually, I was just—"

Both Hawke and Fenris began speaking at the same time, each halting their speech to allow the other to continue. Resulting in more uncomfortable silence.

"You both have to go? Ah, well that's too bad. At least you can keep each other company on the way back to Hightown." Varric smiled smugly, plopping himself into a wobbly chair.

It took every ounce of Hawke's strength not to launch herself across the table at the dwarf, instead she smiled tightly at her friend before turning to face Fenris,

"Well, I should probably leave the same way I came. Meet you out back?" she gestured to the small window behind her.

He responded with a quick nod, downing the pint he held in his hand before turning to leave the room without a word.

A long silence stretched over the room when Fenris left.

"Still up for a party tomorrow?" Varric looked at Hawke innocently.

"I hate you."

With that, Hawke disappeared through the window.

.

* * *

.

Fenris had only seen Hawke twice since her fight with the Arishok. She had been asleep both times, something he had secretly been grateful for. Confused didn't even begin to cover all of the feelings he felt in her presence. He wanted to feel the comforting warmth of her form against him. But even more, he wanted to push her away, somewhere far enough away that he could think clearly. Unfortunately, he also knew that no such distance existed.

When he met her outside, she was shuffling around aimlessly in the alley. She looked up as the sound of his approach, and pushed herself off the wall she was leaning against.

"Alright, lets go."

The walk back was long and slow, longer than Fenris had remembered. He could tell Hawke was avoiding his gaze, further increasing his insecurity.

"Thanks for cleaning my armor." Hawke finally broke the silence.

He raised his brows, briefly taken aback, "Oh?" he kicked himself for the slow response, but Hawke only seemed entertained.

"It was the placement." He watched her through the corner of his eyes while she kept her eyes forward, "If you're wondering what gave you away."

A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, as he made a small noncommittal sound. He supposed she had probably figured out the flowers as well. He almost hadn't left them with Orana. In fact, he wasn't even entirely sure how he had ended up with them in the first place. One moment he was approached by a little girl peddling flowers in the Alienage, the next he was left standing coin-less, with a small bundle of daisies.

Silence had once again settled on the two as they made their ascent into Hightown. He was trying to decide what he wanted to say when words began to fall from his lips bluntly, "Hawke, we've never discussed… that night."

He could almost physically feel the air tense around them, and in the ongoing silence he regretted his choice of delivery.

Stealing a glance, he watched as Hawke began to fiddle with a small dagger. She waited a moment longer before clearing her throat and responding, "I suppose we haven't."

"The pain— the memories it brought up. It was too much…" he began before she cut him off.

"Right. You've said that." Fenris could feel the bite in her tone.

"Then I will repeat it so that you might understand the gravity." He stopped to face her, needing her to understand,

"Your touch is the first I can remember that did not result in pain. Can you possibly imagine what that is like?"

He watched whatever words Hawke had prepared die on her lips. He had never really spoken in detail about his life as a slave. Small bits here and there, but rarely the deeper, dark pieces that ate away at him at night. Her eyes fell in shame and pity, and he tore his gaze away, unable to stand the expression on her face.

He began to pace, words spilling from his mouth as quickly as they came into his mind, "I made promises that I could not keep that night. I wanted to give away something I do not own. Myself." He stopped to finally face her, "I'm sorry."

She had been watching him, her brow furrowed in confusion, "Fenris, you're a free man. No one owns you but _you_."

"Spoken like someone who has never been a slave." She pursed her lips, considering his statement. When she didn't respond, he continued, "My body, mind, and soul have been controlled my entire life, and those responsible _still_ hunt me down like an animal. Haunt my dreams."

He could see the anguish building up behind Hawke's eyes that she struggled to hold back. She chewed on her lip mercilessly before finally meeting his eyes again, "I don't know what to say." She hesitantly placed a hand on his arm, "You don't… you aren't in this alone."

The simple words meant more to Fenris than she probably understood. They were clumsy, but sincere, and it was the first time he had ever believed them. He twisted his arm around to lightly brush his fingers against her touch, "I know." He paused, removing his hand, "I am...trying."

They faced each other in silence, but this time it felt more like the comforting silence that use to be familiar between them. They turned and began walking again before Hawke responded, "Well, that's all any of us are doing. So I'd say you're on the right track. That, or we're all on the wrong track together."

"That does not bode well." Fenris responded dryly, drawing a grin from Hawke.

They had reached the front entrance of the Amell estate, but Fenris wasn't ready to let her leave just yet.

"I—" he struggled to find the words for everything he wanted to say, which was made even more difficult by the fact he wasn't entirely sure what that was. He settled on the truth, "I'm happy you're home, Hawke. We—I missed you."

He watched her eyes soften, before crinkling from a wry smile,

"Yes well, someone had so save the city." She habitually reached up to brush her hair behind her reddening ears. When her hand met nothing but air, she awkwardly put it down again instead.

Fenris struggled to suppress a smile, "Ah yes, and who else could have behaved with such grace and fearlessness?"

She crossed her arms, "If you're referring to all of the running, that was all part of a much larger plan."

He mirrored her stance, nodding his head seriously, "Yes of course."

"Good night, Fenris." Hawke turned to leave, feigning annoyance.

Just before she disappeared through the door, she stopped to look over her shoulder,

"I missed you too."

With that, Fenris was left smiling at a large, wooden door. As made his way home, he swore he could still feel the warmth through his gauntlets where Hawke's hand had once rested.

.

* * *

.

The celebration at Hawke's was a drunken success. After an hour of constant pestering, she had even worn down Cullen, who relented to a mug of ale.

Hawke sat back on the large couch, her legs propped up on Isabela. She scanned the raucous room, feeling her heart swell.

Aveline, Donnic, and Fenris argued with a smug and unrelenting Anders over a hand of Wicked Grace, while Cullen looked on with amusement. Merrill, Orana, and Varric sat in a row on the ground, Merrill braiding Orana's hair, while the young girl did the same for Varric. Sandal looked on curiously, pulling at his own too short locks, while Bodahn rushed around cleaning and refilling glasses, despite everyone's request that he rest.

This was her family.

The thought of family made her mind inevitably wander to Carver, and what he might be up to right now. She didn't even know where he was.

Isabela tilted her head, smiling warmly at her, "What's on your mind, kitten?"

Hawke's instinct was to make something up, but she felt too tired to be creative, "Carver, mostly."

"If you had to guess, what do you think he's complaining about, right now?"

Hawke laughed, pondering for a moment before answering, "I'd bet two sovereigns on father."

"Speaking of daddy Malcolm," Hawke wrinkled her nose at the pirate's sultry tone, "have you found anything more about those books?"

The woman nodded her head over to Malcolm's old book collection along the back wall.

"Not really. Or not yet, at least." She paused, wondering if she wanted to talk about her mother, "I think Leandra knew something more, too."

Isabela took some time to consider the information, and the two sat quietly, listing to the loud companions that surrounded them.

A loud crash sounded in the hall, followed quickly by Meredith bursting into the library, towing a small patrol of templars in her wake. The noise of the room came to an immediate halt.

Aveline and Donnic immediately put down their drinks, standing to block the templars from further entry.

"What's the meaning of this?" Aveline addressed the warriors.

Meredith stepped forward, "We are no longer playing your games Guard Captain. There is an apostate living free in this city, and as the leading authority—,"

Aveline cut her off, "You are not the leading authority, Meredith. I suggest you remember that lest the guard bring you in for trespassing, and disturbance."

"It is clear that your judgment is clouded by a close relationship with the apostate." She narrowed her gaze at Hawke, "I am simply doing my duty. Stand aside." Meredith attempted to push past the warrior, but Aveline would not be swayed and remained planted in place.

"Knight-Commander, I am happy to continue my post. There is no need to do this tonight." Cullen finally spoke, moving from the back of the room.

"You will remain silent, _and_ be suspended." Meredith momentarily focused her icy gaze on the man, "Imbibing while on post? You should be ashamed."

Cullen fell silent, hanging his head in shame.

The Knight-Commander slowly surveyed the room with barely veiled disgust before settling on Hawke, "Marion Hawke, you are to come with us, quietly, or all of your _companions _will face charges for knowingly harboring an apostate." Her eyes passed over Hawke's friends, "Perhaps some might even reveal little secrets of their own?"

A heavy silence settled over the room. Aveline still refused to give way to the Knight Captain, but the woman knew she had won.

"If you wish to contest my decision, we can meet The Grand Cleric in the morning. Though I'm sure we both know what verdict that will bring. Until then, Marion Hawke comes with me."

The tension in the room was palpable. Hawke could see that her friends were ready for battle, but she would not ask that of them. Making a quick choice, she stepped forward, placing a hand on Aveline's shoulder, "Its okay."

The guard captain reluctantly relaxed, and slowly stepped back; Donnic placed a reassuring hand on his wife's back.

The templars quickly surrounded Hawke, immediately binding her.

"You can come get me tomorrow." Hawke smiled tightly at Aveline.

Hawke took one last look around the room. Merrill comforted Sandal and Orana, while Varric only barely held back Anders and Isabela. Aveline and Donnic stood, stoic as ever. Hawke knew Aveline was already running through her possible options for the morning. Finally, Hawke searched the room for Fenris, but the elf was nowhere to be seen. She quickly passed her gaze over the room again, wondering if she had previously missed him.

"You two, stay here and watch them." Meredith gestured to the group, "I don't want anyone making any rash decisions."

"Thank you for your cooperation," the Knight-Commander smiled smugly, and turned from the room."

The two Templars on either side of Hawke jerked her around and began pulling her along. Still no sight of Fenris. With one last glance, she took in the grand hall her mother had been so proud to reclaim, before being whisked into the night.

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* * *

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**Thank y'all for reading and commenting! You're all amazing. I hope this story is keeping you entertained :) **


	16. Chapter 16

The room erupted into chaos as soon as the front door slammed shut. Aveline and Donnic immediately began arguing with the Templar guards, while Merrill attempted to console a distraught Orana. Anders tried to push past Isabela and join Aveline, but his attempts were in vain against the unyielding pirate.

Everything felt at though it was happening at once, but Varric couldn't be bothered to focus on the disorder. Instead, his eyes swept over the room for Bodahn, and any sign that he and Fenris had been successful.

"Is this justice?" Anders yelled at no one in particular, "Another mage leashed by templar jailers?"

"Anders, you're not helping." Isabela gripped his arms, trying to catch the mage's eye.

She finally gave up, releasing the man's arms and allowing him to stumble passed her. Anders quickly caught himself, shooting the pirate a glare before addressing the room, "We need to do something! Why are we standing around?"

Varric almost abandoned his vigil before Anders did something irrational, but his mediation became unnecessary when the concealed basement door at the back of the room slowly opened. Bodahn slid from the cellar while everyone was distracted, shutting the portal quietly behind him. The dwarf caught Varric's eye to give him a quick nod before blending into the room, just as though he had never left in the first place.

Varric released a sigh of relief, and quickly approached Aveline.

Touching her arm, he cleared his throat, "A word?" he nodded behind him, encouraging the warrior to abandon her heated argument.

Without so much as a glance, she pulled her arm away, continuing to berate the templars. Not the response Varric had hoped for. He stepped forward, clearing his throat again, finally getting attention from the woman, just not the kind he wanted.

"What, Varric? What could you possibly need right now?" Aveline snapped at the dwarf, and a long pause fell over the room.

Varric was about to answer when Anders interrupted him.

"Where's Fenris?" the mage asked, "Unable to face the reality that he so passionately supports?"

Varric ignored the man, watching as Aveline scanned the room for the elf, and realizing for the first time that he was in fact missing. Her eyes finally settled back on Varric, narrowing in suspicion.

Aveline placed her hand on the door between the main hall and the library,

"Excuse us." She said. Without breaking eye contact from Varric, she slammed the door in the Templars face.

"What did you do?" She crossed her arms slowly.

"I just—," he began before Aveline cut him off.

"Wait. No. I don't want to know anything."

Aveline turned away from Varric. She was about to open the door again before she quickly turned back, "Will she be safe?"

Varric responded by emitting a strange, long, hesitating sound that stretched on until the warrior shook her head in exhaustion.

"Do what you need to do."

With that, she opened the door, stepping through before shutting it, and contined her argument with the templars on the opposite side.

"What's going on?" Merrill looked around the room, a worried Orana still clinging to her.

Varric hushed his voice, gesturing for everyone to come in a little closer, "Bodahn and I had sort of an…" he searched for the right word, "emergency plan in place for something like this." He put his hands on his hips, chuckling to himself more than anyone else, "Honestly, I'm surprised it's taken this long to be useful."

"So Fenris is a part of this?" Anders asked, scrunching his nose, mild offense coloring his voice.

"Sort of." Varric shrugged, "He's pretty much the muscle."

"We would've helped," Anders didn't bother hiding his annoyance.

"I know, we all would've, but Broody is a ghost in this city. He doesn't have any ties that would leave him vulnerable." Varric shrugged his shoulders, "Besides, do you know anyone else who can tear out a man's heart?"

Isabela grabbed Varric, kissing him on the cheek, "You beautiful dwarf! So, what's the plan?"

"Well, I mean its not foolproof," Varric shuffled around, a little uncomfortable, "We figured once she's in the gallows we've got almost no chance. So, they'll need to attack while she's in transit."

"What do you mean attack?" Merrill asked slowly, tilting her head.

"Basically, the Templars should be ambushed some time between here and the gallows. If all goes well, Hawke will be taken in the chaos."

"If all goes well?" Anders repeated, his voice rising in tone.

"Well, I mean… there are always uncontrollable variables. Especially when you're making deals with raiders."

"Raiders?" Anders and Merrill yelled in unison.

"Well... yeah." Varric and Isabela exchanged looks as though the answer was perfectly obvious, "Who else am I going to get on retainer to kidnap the Champion of Kirkwall?"

"By the Dread Wolf." Merrill put a hand over her eyes, and continued to release a long string of Elvish no one else understood.

"I'm sure Varric trusts them." Isabela sided with her friend, "_and_ Fenris will be there."

"Exactly," Varric stood next to Isabela, "You two should be ashamed of yourselves. Such little faith for our illustrious leader, and her—her," at this point he was just rambling, attempting to distract the group from what he knew to be a flawed plan, "her lithe, and deadly elven companion." He finished proudly, putting his hands on his hips.

Merrill raised one brow, thoroughly unconvinced, while Anders made a retching sound.

"Look, they're supposed to be in Highever by tomorrow night. Until we hear otherwise, trust the plan."

Isabela put a supportive arm around Varric's shoulder, "Yeah, trust the plan."

.

* * *

.

Fenris did not trust the plan. In fact, if he remembered correctly, his exact words to Varric had been, _this is a terrible plan. _

Had someone approached Fenris a few years ago and told him one day he would be plotting the escape of an apostate, it was within the realm of possibilities that he would have ripped out their heart. Yet here he was, crouching on the dilapidated buildings of Lowtown, leading an ambush against the templars. He looked around at the men and women that surrounded him. They were raiders and mercenaries, and Fenris didn't trust a single one of them farther than he could throw them. Unfortunately, the objectionable crew was the least of his concerns.

Not only was Hawke going to attempt to attack Fenris and the raiders in the disorder, but she would also likely try to escape. Fenris needed to catch her, preferably both without being stabbed, and without alerting the tempalrs to their familiar association. The Order needed to believe Hawke was kidnapped during a raid or their cover would likely be blown.

While he respected the templars, there was no denying the madness that had overtaken Meredith and the city, forcing Fenris to begrudgingly consider that perhaps the Circle was not the perfect answer he had once believed. At least, not the Kirkwall Circle. For what felt like the hundredth time, Fenris pondered how he had come to change so much over the years in Kirkwall. How much one woman in particular had changed him.

If he remained in Hawke's life, his own would never be free of this insanity. He would forever be wrapped up in poorly plotted schemes of her making, or the even more haphazardly executed plots of others. A life of constantly adapting to new situations, always questioning and adjusting his beliefs. It was absolutely exhausting.

A small flame was lit from the roof across the courtyard, and quickly extinguished. The signal announced Hawke's pending arrival.

He considered the other changes he had experienced: living alone, Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man, learning to read and write, a possible sister. These were his to call his own. Would any of that have happened without Hawke? Perhaps, but it was more likely that Fenris would be dead in a ditch somewhere, a trail of slaver corpses leading to him.

Yes, Fenris was lost. He still had his demons to fight, but there was no one else he would rather have standing beside him than her. Hawke was brash, loving, and arguably insane. She was a tempestuous storm, and a series of failed jokes. She was freedom, and Fenris would do anything to protect that. This life was exhausting, but it was the only life Fenris wanted to live.

.

* * *

.

Instead of plotting and planning, as she probably should have been doing, Hawke slowly walked along with the templars in a sort of daze. Was this truly it for her? All of those years of running and fighting, and the Hawke legacy would end where it began, in the gallows of Kirkwall.

"Ser! Ser, please!" A frantic voice chased after the small convoy, snapping Hawke back to reality. The voice belonged to a young girl, sprinting towards them. She was short, and too skinny for her frame. Likely one of the Chantry orphans.

"Please Ser!" the little girl approached Meredith directly, bowing her head slightly so that her long, tangled hair fell in front of her face, "Sister Patrice has called for you, ser."

"Patrice? Tell her I am busy." Meredith brushed off the girl.

"Please! She said it's urgent!" The young girl begged desperately, pulling at the hem of Meredith's sleeve.

The Knight-Commander watched with disinterest as tears filled the child's eyes, a long moment passed before she reluctantly conceded, more eager to silence the young girl than to help, "Very well," She sighed in frustration before turning to three guards that surrounded Hawke, "Take her straight to the gallows. Do not stop for anything."

With that Meredith walked briskly after the young girl who sprinted ahead.

The Templars pulled on Hawke's bound arms, pushing her forward. She dragged her feet, finally attempting to center her mind. Now that Meredith was gone, she might actually stand a chance at escaping.

It wasn't until Hawke had settled her thoughts and began to focus, that she finally noticed the eerie silence that had settled over the normally bustling streets of Lowtown. It was the isolated stillness that signaled only one thing, a raider attack.

"Oh shit." Hawke groaned beneath her breath, preparing herself for what she knew to be inevitable.

"Oh shit, what?" One of the Templars asked, shoving her forward a bit, anxiety coloring his voice.

No sooner had the man spoken, then a group of thieves dropped down from the buildings of the narrow alley. They were completely surrounded.

"Maker!" One of the Templars shouted in surprise, drawing his weapon.

The other two pushed Hawke towards a darkened pile of crates, and drew their own weapons to fight. Before she could gain her footing, a blast of energy sent Hawke stumbling over, face-first into the ground.

"Fuck!" Hawke coughed dirt and debris from her mouth. She could feel the deep void in her veins where the familiar tingling sensation of mana should be. Her limbs were weak and heavy, like the muscles had been ripped from her body and she was nothing but a loose sack of skin and bones. The templar had cleansed the area of magic, leaving Hawke even more vulnerable than she already had been. She slipped a small pin from her belt, shakily working the bindings behind her back while she assessed the scene.

The Templars were outnumbered, but it was more likely that their combined skills were superior to their attackers. The outcome was a tossup; either way Hawke needed to escape.

Keeping low to the ground she stumbled from shadow to shadow, still frail from the spell cleanse earlier.

"Hey!" A templar called after her, spotting her attempted flight. He bashed an opponent with his shield before turning his attention back to his escaping prisoner.

"Shit, shit, shit." Hawke quickly backed away from the approaching man. Her foot caught a fallen raider and she tripped over backwards, dropping the lock-pick.

The templar approached rapidly, raising his sword as if he in fact intended to strike a killing blow. Without pause, he brought the great weapon down hard on the spot Hawke laid. At the last moment, she rolled away, and his sword struck dirt. Hawke drew back her feet quickly, and kicked them forward with all her strength. She made contact with the templar's body, knocking him hard to the ground.

"You piece of…" the templar rolled his head to the side, wiping the blood that trickled from his lip. He struggled a moment, slowly pushing himself to stand with great effort in his heavy armor.

Hawke didn't watch to see what the templar did next. Instead, she hastily felt around the dirt for the pin she had dropped earlier. She was about to abandon her efforts and flee, when her fingers brushed over the small metal piece. She laughed almost maniacally as she snached up the pin and to work furiously at the lock behind her back. Standing awkwardly, she rushed away from the ensuing battle.

She had only made it a few paces when she heard someone approaching her rapidly from behind. Just before the figure reached her, she heard the satisfying click of the cuffs unlocking, freeing her arms in time to swing around and punch the raider. They careened back before regaining themselves, and continuing their pursuit. She was still weakened from her injuries with the Arishok, but she'd be damned if a raider was going to take her down. Ignoring her burning muscles, she tore from the conflict at full speed.

Two of the three Templars were still fighting, and shouted after Hawke as she fled. She lost them quickly, but the relentless raider was still hot on her heels. He stuck to her like glue, anticipating all of her movements. She sprinted down a nearby alley, leaping up a pile of crates, and took to the rooftops. Staying low, she moved swiftly along the top of the sleeping city. She wasn't exactly sure where she was going, but she figured the Docks would be a good place to start.

She paused, crouching low to listen for her pursuer, but the rooftops were quiet and still. She dropped down between two buildings, catching her breath and plotting her next move. Unlike her previous location, this area of town was bustling with last minute shoppers and vendors, packing up and heading home for the evening. It was a perfect crowd to get lost in.

"Hawke!" A gruff voice panted behind her, trying to catch his breath.

Without thinking, she spun around with an arced kick. They ducked under her leg, and grabbed her before she could attempt another attack. Twisting Hawke around into their grasp, the raider pinned her arms down.

"Haw—," the raider was about to address her again when she sent her head flying back into his face.

"Fasta vass!" The man barked hoarsely, stumbling back to grab his nose.

"What the...Fenris?" Hawke ran towards the masked man, utterly confused.

He lunged towards her, pinning her roughly to the wall,

"Festis bei uno canavarum."

She couldn't contain the wide grin that spread across her face. She recognized the phrase as something the elf had said to her often. It meant something along the lines of 'You will be the death of me.' Actually, now that she thought about it, different people repeated some variation of that phrase to her with an alarming frequency.

He released her arms, and pulled down the dark fabric that concealed his face. The sight of his familiar features, albeit slightly more bruised than usual, released a tension in Hawke's stomach she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The moment of respite was brief however, as she remembered the dire situation.

"What are you doing?" Her tone came out as more accusation than gratitude.

Fenris cocked his head, failing to disguise his offended tone, "Saving you, obviously."

"I was doing just fine." She crossed her arms, attempting to reclaim some lost pride.

He scoffed loudly as he turned away from her, glancing out from the obscured alleyway.

She watched him examine their surroundings, her mind still reeling that he was even here. _Escape now, questions later_, she repeated the mantra to herself.

"We can use the crowd to get to the docks." She came to stand next to him, pointing to the heaviest concentration of shoppers.

He responded with a silent nod, and they began to move as quickly as they could without drawing attention. They hadn't made it far when familiar voices caught Hawke's attention,

"Have you seen an apostate—," Hawke grabbed Fenris' arm, stopping to listen to the templar question a woman only a few shops down.

"Shit." She whispered, looking around for a quick escape. The templars were closing in, and they were trapped.

She could see Fenris making the same frantic assessments that she was, as his eyes darted around the scene. The men's armor clanked loudly as they edged nearer. With no time to lose, Hawke turned to Fenris,

"Sorry."

The look of confusion that passed over his face was brief as she grabbed his shoulders and pulled his mouth to hers.

She fell gracelessly back against a hard stone wall. Fenris' arms quickly shot forward to brace himself from completely crushing her. She felt his body freeze awkwardly, and she wanted to apologize again. The templars were marching closer, so she arched further against him, concealing her face, and pushing her lips harder against his.

A voice somewhere inside her head was screaming with both joy and chagrin. His familiar humming was exhilarating, but Fenris had announced his boundaries, yet here she was paying them no regard. She was about to pull away when she felt one of his arms wrap slowly around her waist. He pulled her tightly against him, and in the comforting warmth of his embrace. For a moment, she almost forgot where they were, and everything that had happened between them.

She lightly brushed her tongue against his lower lip, and the contact was his final undoing. Fenris wholly relaxed into her, murmuring lowly in Tevene before sealing his mouth over hers. The kiss was long and deep; she gripped his armor with one hand as the other greedily wrapped around his neck, and into his hair. He tasted like spice and blood, and she couldn't believe she had possibly gone this long without feeling his tongue against hers.

Somewhere behind Fenris, she heard the templar from earlier, "Disgusting refugees."

"Fereldan dogs." The other voice spoke, spitting on the ground as they passed by, and continued their search for Hawke.

As soon as the men passed, Fenris seemed to snap back to attention. He pulled away quickly, looking at Hawke with bewilderment,

"What are you doing?"

"Saving you, obviously." She smiled with a confidence she did not feel. She had become thoroughly lost in the moment, and the abrupt end had irrevocably affected the mood. Now she was left feeling exposed, and worried she had overstepped with Fenris. Their friendship was still a fragile one.

"I was doing just fine." A small smile twitched on his lips, prompting a more genuine smile from her. At least he wasn't offended by her actions.

He studied her intently, and she could help but fidget beneath his gaze. She knew she was bruised and dirty, as usual, and electricity seemed to pulse through her body as her mana slowly restored itself. It was only a small step to reach him from where she stood. She wanted to move forward and close the space, ending the hesitation that lingered between them, but she held back. The choice was his to make this time.

His chest rose and lowered slightly faster than normal, and she felt his hand twitch near hers, where they hung at her side. His fingers lightly grazed over her knuckles, a touch so delicate that she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't imagined the contact.

She could see him holding back, physically feeling his indecision that hung heavy in the air. It was an indecision that Hawke wasn't willing to face again. She turned her gaze away from his, turning her shoulder so that they could continue their escape. Where her focus should be anyway.

"Is there a plan for when we get to the Docks?" She put her hands on her hips, scanning the street in front of them, not wanting to look at him again.

When he didn't respond, she turned around to find him slumped on the ground, unconscious.

"Fuck!" she ran over to him, sliding to her knees. Just as she reached for his prone form however, something hard made sharp contact with the back of her skull, and everything went black.

.

* * *

.

"Where is Marion Hawke?" Meredith slammed her fist onto the table, rattling its contents.

As the hours crept into early morning, the Templars' search for Hawke had yet to cease, and Hawke's companions were the most likely suspects.

"Knight-Commander, this is absurd. We've been under watch this entire time." Aveline crossed her arms, trying for the hundredth time to convince Meredith of their innocence.

"Oh do not play coy with me." Meredith sneered at the Guard-Captain, "You're all hiding something. This room reeks of lies. This whole city wallows in the filth of it!" Meredith hit the table again, this time succeeding in spilling a pot of ink.

She turned around to face the companions, and for a moment Varric thought he had seen something in her eyes. They were manic and black, but in a flash, the illusion was gone. He hadn't seen or heard from anyone yet besides Bodahn, so he had thus far assumed all had gone according to plan.

That was until a strange voice bellowed from the top of Hawke's stairs,

"The blood of Hawke!"

Everyone turned to the voice in confusion, and there was a moment of silence before chaos broke out around them. Dwarves dropped down from the tall ceilings, and crashed through the windows and doors.

"What in the—?" Varric began before he was cut off as a raider collided with his body.

"Just. One. Night." Varric grunted between firing explosive shots, "Is that too much to ask? One night without an ambush. Maybe even throw in some free ale."

"Well now you're just being greedy." Anders responded next to him, knocking back attackers with his staff. He and Merrill couldn't chance using magic in front of Meredith, and the lack of support was weakening the group.

"If we weren't constantly under attack, you'd have nothing to write about." Isabela laughed as she spun around the figures, slashing and darting her way about the room.

"He'd just lie. Its all he's good at anyway." Aveline grunted, bashing through a small group of men with her shield, and knocking them all to the ground.

"In my next installment, you're all dying." Varric smacked a raider's nose with the back of Bianca.

"Even me?" Merrill finally piped up, exhausted from being unable to use her magic.

"Not you Daisy, you get to live happily ever after in a meadow."

Merrill punched a dwarf squarely in the face. He dropped to the ground as she shook out her fist and sighed, "That's nice."

"Will you shut up?" Meredith yelled in frustration, slicing her way mercilessly through the intruders.

Luckily, with the addition of the templars, the fight ended swiftly. The evidence for Hawke's raider attack was stacking up in favor of their innocence. Even Meredith was forced accept that it was possible Hawke's companions had truly played no part in the evening events. Even if that was only a half-truth.

Her tone was acidic, and her stare was searing as her gaze passed over the bloodied group.

"You all have secrets." she paused to sheath her sword with a sudden serenity that sent shivers down Varric's spine, "If I have any reason to suspect any of you played a part in this, you will all rot in the Gallows."

With that, the Knight Commander turned away and exited the mansion, her templars following behind quickly. Varric looked around the room, covered in blood, corpses, and debris,

"Hawke is going to be pissed."

.

* * *

.

Fenris almost ran straight into Meredith and her templars as she came storming from the mansion. Fortunately, the clamor of her stomping march gave Fenris just enough time to duck behind a corner before the front door slammed open. The back of his head pulsed painfully where he had been hit, and he applied firm pressure with his hand while he waited for the templars to disappear. He held his breath, holding a few more moments after they had gone before he emerged from the shadows, and slipped in through the front door.

"Broody! You just missed some serious shit. How's Hawke?" Varric turned to face Fenris.

Fenris surveyed the room, completely wrecked and stacked with bodies, "What happened here?"

Varric waved his hand as if it was unimportant, "Some crazy dwarves yelling about Hawke's blood or something. Nug-humping lunatics. How's Hawke?" he tried again.

"I..." Fenris paced the room unable to stand still, the pain in the back of his head was making it difficult to focus, "I lost her."

A silence fell over the room.

"What do you mean you lost her?" Aveline stepped forward.

He continued moving about the room, clenching and unclenching his fists as the nights events played out in his mind. Hawke's lips against his own, her heady taste, more potent than he had remembered. He hadn't realized how empty he had been until he had Hawke in his arms. Her touch igniting his markings, and her scent swimming around him. He never wanted to let her go... but he had to.

"Someone attacked, and now she's gone." he finally answered, slamming his fist into a wood paneled wall. He was supposed to protect her, and he had failed.

He could clearly see her dejected face as he pulled away from her. She was open, and available, and _wanting, _but Fenris still couldn't. He needed Hawke, but more than that, he wanted to deserve her. It would be so easy to fall back into her embrace, but if he wasn't careful they would burst into flame before they even began. As Hawke turned away, he could only hope she would wait for him.

Aveline interrupted his distracted thoughts, "Maker! Did you see who it was?"

He grimaced, coming to stand still, facing away from the group, "I saw nothing. I was… unconscious."

"How in Andraste's tits, did that happen?" Varric yelled, clearly worried for his friend.

"We were escaping the Templars, making our way to the dock and… someone caught us while we were distracted." Fenris hoped the guilt he was feeling wasn't showing on his face, but one look from the pirate told him he wouldn't be so lucky.

"What do you mean… distracted?" Isabela tilted her head playfully at him. He shot her a murderous glare, but it only seemed to further answer her question.

She immediately began laughing, as Merrill, Anders, and Varric slowly caught on.

"Oh, seriously? You couldn't keep it in your pants for a rescue mission?" Anders crossed his arms, disgust wrinkling his nose.

"I think it's kinky." Isabela laughed, bumping Anders with her hip.

"I think it's sweet." Merrill smiled.

Anders shook his head as if attempting to shake an unwanted image from his mind, "I can't imagine what Hawke sees in you."

"I am not—We are not—" Fenris began a few times, flustered and irritated, "Do not speak of things you do not understand."

Anders looked momentarily surprised, "So, you're not together? Thank the Maker she finally saw reason."

Fenris saw no reason to correct the man, in fact, he figured he'd allow him one last pleasant thought before he punched him in the face. His markings pulsed as he approached Anders, who only flinched briefly before readying his stance with his staff.

Aveline stepped between them, putting her hands up,

"Enough." her commanding bellow immediately silenced the room, "Hawke is missing, you fools. We have work to do."

Both men stood down, looking mildly ashamed.

"Varric, what've you got?" Aveline looked over at the dwarf riffling through corpses.

"Ah, shit." he tossed a bloody ledger to the warrior. She quickly leafed through it, looking back at Varric for clarification.

"The Carta."

.

* * *

.

Hawke found herself caught between waking and sleep, sometimes unable to tell the two apart. When she awoke, the world around her was a thick, heavy, haze. Her hands and feet had been bound again, and she felt like a weight sat on her back, pinning her to the ground. When she slept, her dreams alternated between familiar nightmares and unfamiliar landscapes. Soon, the relentless shifting scenes settled on a slowly darkening sky. The soft glow of fire felt warm on her cheeks, as a gentle voice lulled her to sleep,

Elgara vallas, da'len  
Melava somniar  
Mala taren aravas  
Ara ma'desen melar

Iras ma ghilas, da'len  
Ara ma'nedan ashir  
Dirthara lothlenan'as  
Bal emma mala dir

Tel'enfenim, da'len  
Irassal ma ghilas  
Ma garas mir renan  
Ara ma'athlan vhenas  
Ara ma'athlan vhenas

She couldn't understand the words, but the tune calmed her rapidly beating heart, and for the first time in a long time, Hawke felt safe.

"Ar lath ma, Da'len." The voice moved slowly around Hawke, relaxing her sore muscles. She never wanted to leave this place of serenity, but no sooner had she made the wish, then another voice interrupted her peace.

"Marion!" This voice was much harsher, a man's voice. It did nothing to elicit the warmth she felt earlier, so she chose to ignore it.

"Marion? Marioooooon!" Despite her best attempts, the voice only grew in volume and annoyance.

"Sister!"

The last shrill call finally jolted Hawke from her slumber. She snorted loudly as she awoke. Sitting up quickly, her head immediately began to spin, and she could feel moisture dripping down her chin.

"Maker. You drool more than a mabari."

"C—Carver?" Hawke rubbed her head, attempting to focus her mind.

"Did you miss me?" her eyes finally focused on the voice, and she found none other than her brother, leaning against the bars of a rusted metal cell.

"Maker, what is going on?" She placed her aching head between her knees.

"Not entirely sure." Carver sighed, looking around; "A bunch of dwarfs attacked me near the Warden's Keep at Ansberg. I've only been here two or three days… I think."

"Who are they?" she kept her eyes on the ground, putting her arms over her head as though she could hide from the pain.

"It's good to see you too." He grumbled.

"Sorry." She looked up guiltily, "There's just been… a lot of shit happening." She sighed, pulling herself to stand.

Her legs almost crumpled beneath her weight before she steadied herself again, "It _is_ good to see you."

A humorless smile played on his face, but his eyes relayed sympathy, "I know. I've actually heard quite a lot."

"Warden contacts in Kirkwall?" She crossed her arms.

"More like Merrill contacts in Kirkwall." He grinned sheepishly.

"She never mentioned that."

He shrugged his shoulders, "It's possible that I encouraged her discretion."

Hawke kicked around her cell, looking for something she could use to pick the lock around her wrists, "So then, tell me what you know. Oh wise one."

He crossed his arms, "Let's see: I know you broke up with your angry elf, and went on a trip with Isabela. I also maybe heard something about stopping a Qunari invasion?"

She stopped to look up at her brother, "Your source is adorably biased. Fenris did most of the leaving, and the 'trip' was more of an 'unscheduled flee'. However Merrill made the Qunari fight sound, add a lot more crying, and it'll probably be more accurate."

Carver laughed in disbelief, as if even the mere thought of Hawke's life exhausted him.

"Also, I should probably mention I'm a tentative apostate of the Kirkwall Circle now."

"Tentative?" He raised his brow.

She continued toeing through the dirt for a pick, "Well, does is count if I never actually made it inside the circle walls?"

He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, "Well life certainly hasn't been boring for either of us."

Hawke quirked her mouth into a small grin, "You know, I'm kind of proud of Merrill's spying. You, on the other hand, are worse than mother, you filthy gossip."

They both fell into an awkward silence at the mention of her mother. Hawke wanted to kick herself; she had gotten so caught up in familiar banter with her brother that she had almost forgotten their mother was gone. She didn't even know how Carver felt about her failure.

He sighed, shuffling the dirt around on the ground, "Look at us. The Hawke's once again find themselves in another mess. Is it bad I'm glad mother isn't around to have to suffer this?

"We do attract a particular kind of fortune."

He chuckled a bit as they held each other's gaze, silently reminiscing earlier years that felt a lifetime away. The years when life had been hard, but their family had been whole. They hadn't said much, but for the Hawke siblings, often a lack of words was a more positive sign.

"Did you kill him?" Carver continued to keep his eyes glued to the ground, "The man who…"

He didn't need to finish his sentence; Hawke knew who he was referring to,

"He's dead." She couldn't control the anger that colored her voice. She hadn't had the opportunity to kill the man that had taken their mother. Instead, he had taken his own life to try and stop her. The knowledge left a permanent bitter taste in her mouth.

"Good." Carver said, as another long silence settled over the room.

Carver finally looked up from the ground, clearing his throat, "Well, to answer your original question, I don't know who our kidnappers are. Crazed dwarves as far as I can understand. They ambushed me on patrol and brought me here." He looked around at the dark cave, "Wherever 'here' is."

"Did they say anything else?" Hawke began pacing the ground and studying the dimly lit room, eager to shed the thoughts of her mother.

"Just nonsense about the 'blood of Hawke'. They actually cut me when I got there. I guess they were unimpressed though, because I've been sitting in this cell alone since."

"I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding." Hawke glanced back at the conspicuous pile of bones at the back of her cell, "later we'll have tea and cakes, and laugh."

"Oh good, still as clever as ever." Carver groaned.

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted when a dwarf entered the room, bringing them both to attention.

"Your time has come." The dwarf spoke directly to Hawke in a strange methodical manner, little emotion in his voice.

"My time for what?"

"You are the child of Nesairis Hawke. It began with her, and now it ends with you." He unlocked the cell, approaching Hawke's bound hands.

She backed away, "Sorry friend, I think you might be mistaking me for someone else."

"Blood for blood, that's what we were told." He continued to pursue her.

"Well that does not sound pleasant. I'm going to have to pass." She smiled at the dwarf as she met the wall of the back of her cell, halting her retreat.

"Then we will take it. If you do not cooperate, we will kill the false Hawke." The dwarf pointed a crossbow his gripped at her brother.

"The false Hawke?" Carver yelled from the other cell, clearly irritated.

Before the dwarf could bring his attention back to her, Hawke swung out her foot, making contact with the side of his head. With a sickening thud, he fell to the ground unconscious. She knelt down next to him, searching his vest for keys. When she found them, she quickly set to work trying each out on her bound wrists.

"What did he mean false Hawke?" Carver complained, still displeased by the title.

"I don't know," Hawke was barely paying attention to her brother, focusing most of her effort on freeing her hands, "they're crazy."

She rejoiced as she felt the lock open. Shaking the cuffs from her hands, she set to freeing Carver, who was still pouting.

"Alright, when I get this door open, we can get out of here."

Carver crossed his arms in defiance, "I don't want to run away. I want to find out what they're trying to do. Otherwise they'll just keep coming back."

The door swung open, and she stood from her crouch to face her brother, studying his expression for a long moment.

"This is about the false Hawke thing, isn't it?" Hawke raised a brow.

"Well what do they mean?" Carver shouted, throwing up his hands.

Laughter bubbled from Hawke's lips that she could no longer control as Carver's scowl grew.

"Come on, false Hawke." Hawke sighed, "Lets look into this mess."

.

* * *

.

"There it is." Varric came to a stop, pointing at a canyon pass ahead.

Isabela stood next to him, placing her hands on her hips, and squinting her eyes against the relentless sun, "It doesn't look all that dwarven."

Varric sighed, rubbing his head to soothe his troubled thoughts, "These are Carta dwarves. So they're more criminals and smugglers than anything else. They're not usually stupid though. I don't know why they'd attack Hawke."

"So, what's the plan?" Merrill came to stand on the other side of the pirate. Everyone except Aveline had decided to make the trip. Though they were under strict instructions to write the Guard Captain with any news of their friend.

"That's the problem Daisy. I found their hideout, but my sources couldn't tell me anything else. Its all a bit… strange."

"Its just the Carta, isn't it?" Isabela asked with little interest, looking over her shoulder at Anders and Fenris standing opposite of one another behind them. The two had been particularly quiet this journey.

"As far as my contacts in the Carta know. They shouldn't be here." Varric paused, shaking his head, "Shit, there shouldn't even be a _here_. This place is invisible, a big blind spot on the map. Bianca's never been this suspicious, and she's twitchy to start with."

"Does it matter? We just need to find Hawke and get out." Fenris finally spoke.

"A fine point." Varric clapped his hands together, "Alright, well let's get on with it."

.

* * *

.

Thanks for sticking with me, you spectacular readers!

Guest: You make my heart sing! I know I'm infrequent with updates, but I really will try to make them more often. Thank you

Annemarie01: Thank you, that's such a wonderful compliment to receive! I hope the story continues to provide entertainment!

Dani.777: Yeah :P I kind of have this head cannon that while Hawke is an impressive fighter, especially with duel specialties, most of her success can be attributed to a combination of luck and extreme exaggeration by Varric haha. I'm glad you're enjoying it

RBurger: I do love a cliffhanger! I'm glad the catch-up was helpful for you! I hope you keep reading


	17. Chapter 17

"Okay, this is becoming a little hyperbolic." Varric grunted as Bianca shot three rounds, piercing straight through two raiders.

Fenris had to agree. They had already fought two waves of Carta dwarves in their search for Hawke, yet their numbers did not appear to be dwindling. Whatever this operation was, it was large.

"That makes eleven!" Fenris heard a familiar voice shout somewhere behind him, and it made his heart race. _Carver?_

It had been some time since he had heard the man's voice, and to hear it here of all places was particularly confusing. Though he supposed this was something he had learned to expect from the Hawke siblings by now. They were never quite where you expected them to be. Despite this, they possessed at least one predictable routine, wherever the young warrior was, his sister was often not far behind.

"Impressive, but—," a woman's voice paused to grunt loudly, "unfortunately you're still three behind."

Fenris' heart beat even faster as his assumption was proven correct.

_She's here. She's alive._

"Hawke!" Varric shouted happily, staring over Fenris' shoulder.

"Varric!" Hawke's unmistakable voice called with just as much glee.

Fenris paused his fighting to look briefly behind him at the woman. He just needed one glimpse to verify for himself that she was actually present.

His gaze passed over her quickly. She was dirty and bruised, but that was nothing new.

A wave of relief washed over him. Hawke was safe. Relatively speaking.

"Broody, watch out!" Varric shouted.

Fenris turned around just in time to see a Raider raising a large axe to slice through his abdomen.

As Fenris was forced to accept his fate, a burst of energy flew past his side, shooting straight into the chest of the dwarf.

The man was sent barreling backwards. He smacked hard into a rickety, wooden desk, collapsing in an unconscious mess among dust and wood.

The entire room fell into a panting stillness as the last raider collpased limply to the ground. Fenris turned to look back at Hawke, ready to thank her timely intervention. He hadn't actually seen the origins of the spell, but he had felt her magic's energy.

Every mage emitted an aura of magic that can be felt by anyone trained to sense it. A true master however, can sense the more personal particularities of each mage. Their magic's fingerprint, if you will. Fenris didn't claim mastery, but with the addition of his lyrium markings, he had been able to familiarized himself with a few magical energies in his life.

Hawke's for instance, was silent and swift. It glided like a snake through water, seeking out its prey. A characteristic he attributed both to her fighting style as well as years of training in magic concealment from her father. Fenris was really only able to detect it's presence at the moment of contact. When it bursts forth like a viper, popping and burning ferociously in one deadly bite.

He tried to catch her eye, but she was already tilting her head towards her brother,

"Four behind, now." She taunted.

"Shut up." Carver sheathed his sword, walking further into the room.

"Well hello everyone." Fenris watched Hawke put her hands on her waist, surveying her exhausted companions. Her gaze passed quickly over him before returning to Varric, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say this looks like a rescue mission."

"You always have been very observant, sister." Carver grinned at Hawke's wave of dismissal.

"He's just sour because the dwarves have been calling him the _false Hawke_." The mage said, immediately succeeding in wiping the smile from Carver's face.

Fenris studied the group. They were scratched and dirty, but still smiling. Surrounded by corpses in a mysterious cave, Hawke teased her brother like no time had passed between them. Despite the morbidity of the situation, Fenris couldn't help but appreciate the sense of familiarity.

"The false Hawke, eh?" Varric laughed, "Is that better or worse than junior?"

Carver's frown deepened, only further increasing Hawke and Varric's enjoyment.

Finally the dwarf sighed, patting the young warrior on the back, "It really is good to see you, but this shit is weird. Are we ready to go?"

Fenris watched Hawke and Carver exchange quick looks, each imploring the other to speak. Finally, Hawke gave in, rolling her eyes at her brother before stepping closer to her friend. "I think we're going to stick around and look into this whole mess."

Varric groaned, "I knew something like this was going to happen. It can never be simple with you two."

Hawke toed her foot around on the ground, shuffling about small piles of dirt. It was a habit Fenris recognized her employ whenever she was trying to subtly get her way. It only ever worked on Varric.

"I could really use my best friend on this one."

Fenris knew that if the dwarf hadn't already been planning on staying, that would have sealed the deal.

Varric sighed in exhaustion before a small smile crept back across his face,

"Oh fine. There's no way I'd miss watching you make these motherless nug-lickers cry."

"Yes!" Hawke clapped her hands together, turning to wink at her brother before addressing the group, "Now, does anyone know what the fuck is going on?"

Fenris huffed out a quiet laugh. If only they_ ever_ knew what was going on.

"I was headed for the gallows, and the next thing I know I'm in an underground prison with a bunch of crazed dwarves." She finished.

"Yeah, well you were _supposed_ to get to the docks. Trust me, none of this was in the original blue prints." Varric looked between Fenris and Hawke, but the elf avoided his gaze, taking the excuse to sheath his sword.

"Oh come on. That wasn't Fenris' fault." Isabela nudged Varric.

"What—?" Carver began to question the story before Hawke cut him off quickly.

"Well, no point dwelling on the past." She glared at Isabela who didn't even try to conceal her smirk.

Fenris briefly wondered if he could get away with punching the pirate, but ultimately decided against the extra attention it would bring. He instead maintained his famously passive expression, willing the group to move on from the current topic.

The trip over to this barren wasteland had been long, and sleepless, especially with Hawke's safety unknown. She could have died, and it would have been his fault.

His own inability to focus around the woman had endangered their lives time and time again. He could not…. would not allow his weaknesses to harm Hawke.

He had briefly considered leaving. Helping rescue Hawke, and then disappearing. Freeing her of the dangers he imposed. If he couldn't help protect her, what was his worth?

But these were slave's thoughts, not that of a free man.

The real danger to Hawke had been his indecision, his fear. If he continued waiting for life to be perfect, he would wait them both into their graves. Fenris had wanted to move slowly, but he wasn't moving at all. While there were many uncertainties in his life, Hawke was not among them.

At this point he wasn't even sure that she would accept his apology. Neither of them possessed much decorum in regards to their pride. Seeing as he had turned away from her several times now, he expected and deserved no less in return.

Despite this likely negative outcome, Fenris knew that he had to try. Whether as a friend or more, Hawke was his family. He wanted to be a part of her life.

Fenris snapped back to attention, for the first time noticing that his other companions no longer surrounded him. He needed to focus. It would be a particularly cruel irony should his acceptance of his feelings for Hawke be met with her death.

Everyone had habitually begun scouring the small area, collecting anything of value or use. Fenris still hadn't moved from his spot when he heard Hawke and Varric.

The woman pushed at fallen bodies with her feet, not bothering to really check for anything of worth. Instead, she chatted with the dwarf, fiddling with her daggers.

"Did you tell anyone where you were going?"

"Well, Aveline helped us plan." Varric answered, riffling through various unmarked bottles of liquid, "And the Knight-Commander probably suspects something by now, though probably nothing this weird."

Hawke wrinkled her nose at the mention of Meredith, "At least if we never come back someone might come collect our bodies."

"Unfortunately, some would probably prefer that outcome." Varric grunted, pulling free a few unbroken arrows from a large wooden barrel.

"Is Meredith still sore about that whole mess in Kirkwall?" Hawke joked, waving a hand dismissively.

Varric straightened up, placing a hand on his chin and looking up at the ceiling, as if struggling to remember, "Last I checked, her new mantra was: bring me the Champion of Kirkwall, dead or alive."

Hawke put her hands on her hips, frowning, "Well see, now _that_ hurts my feelings."

Carver looked up from the desk he was rifling through, his brows furrowed in an incredulous expression, "_Champion_?"

Hawke turned to face her brother with a grin of pure delight, "Oh, did I forget to mention that earlier?"

Before Hawke could incite her brother further, a loud yell rang out from the opposite end of the passage,

"The Hawke's blood! The master will rise. He will be free!"

Everyone ceased their rummaging, and turned to face the origins of the shout.

"Gerav?" Varric squinted his eyes at the new dwarf approaching the party.

He stopped a few paces away, wringing his hands nervously, "Varric? N—no one told me that you'd be part of this. We were just going after the Hawke."

Fenris looked between the two, surprised that Varric knew the other man. Though he supposed he shouldn't be surprised by now, the dwarf seemed to know everyone.

"Andraste's tits Gerav, what is this shit?" Varric gestured to their strange surroundings, "What are you even doing here? Worshipping demons?"

Gerav seemed to hesitate for only a moment before gathering his courage to speak again, "We drink the Darkspawn blood."

"What? Why?" Fenris heard Isabela make a gagging sound somewhere behind him.

An unnatural smile spread across the dwarf's face as he responded, "It's the only way to hear the music. He calls to us."

"Varric, I can't believe you've never introduced me to your lovely friend." Hawke took a deep swig of water from a flask Merrill had handed her.

"Hawke, this is Gerav. He's a greedy, brilliant, bastard son-of-a-nug from the Carta."

He turned to the other dwarf, signaling to Hawke, "Gerav, this is Hawke. The one whose blood you want to drink or bathe in, or whatever." he trailed off as if the details were inconsequential, "But if you're after eternal youth, I've got to tell you, she's no virgin."

Carver wrinkled his nose in disgust. Hawke choked briefly on her water, dribbling it down her chin and onto her shirt.

She cleared her throat, composing herself quickly, "You'll have to find someone else I suppose."

The response seemed to upset the dwarf, who began to retreat slowly from the group, his hand moving to the knife on his back, "The Master is calling. He needs the blood!"

Fenris readied his weapon.

"Gerav, buddy. This isn't like you." Varric's hand twitched towards his crossbow.

"Look, I've still got Bianca. Never misfired a day in her life. You don't want her to see her papa like this, do you?" he swung the great crossbow around to display it for the dwarf, a warning.

"Varric, you don't need to—" Hawke reached over to her friend, but he moved his arm away.

It was a similar gesture that she had once made towards Fenris. Hawke would kill if she needed to, but she didn't want others to kill for her. Unfortunately for her sentiments, she was in a room full of companions that wouldn't even think twice about it.

"No, it's okay Hawke. He's after you." Fenris wasn't worried. He knew that if Varric didn't want to take the shot, he would.

The dwarf cocked the bow, "Bianca, I think it's time to say goodbye."

He shot an arrow forward, but just before it made contact, Gerav dropped a small clay pot. It shattered and immediately surrounded the room in thick black smoke. Shouts of several others filled the room.

"Reinforcements! You bastard!" Varric shouted into the haze.

A low chuckled sounded from the back of the room. As the smoke settled, Fenris could see a group of dwarfs at the far end.

"They told me you would be trouble." The apparent leader spoke confidently, "I swore to Corypheus we'd bring him Nesairis Hawke's blood, one way or the other."

"There they go with Nesairis again." Hawke looked at Carver before cupping her hands around her mouth to shout slowly at the approaching warrior, "I don't know a Nesairis. You have the wrong person."

The man appeared to not hear her, "What Corypheus wants, he gets."

Hawke sighed in exhaustion, looking down at Varric, "He's just as insane as the rest of them, isn't he?"

As if in response, the Carta dwarf opened his arms and began yelling to the room around them, "Corypheus, we have done as you command! Your sacrifice is here. You will see the surface once more!" he drew his axe.

"Ah, shit." Hawke pulled out her daggers.

.

* * *

.

The fight was dirty and quick; when the debris had settled, Hawke found Varric hunched over Gerav on the ground.

"You poor, stupid bastard." He stared at the lifeless body before looking up at Hawke, "I used to do business with the Carta back in the day. He was a nutcase back then too, but in a good way. I can't believe he ended up like this."

She walked closer to her friend, placing her hand on his shoulder, "You alright?"

Varric nodded his head, keeping his eyes on the ground again before releasing a long sigh and looking back at her, "Yeah. How about you? You've had more than the usual number of death threats today."

"You know, it's strangely flattering." She winked at him, and he chuckled at her response.

"Oh my." Merrill's voice drew Hawke's attention away from the dwarf.

The leader of the crazy-brigade lay at the other end of the room. Merrill studied the corpse from a distance, as a dim purple light began to glow beneath the body. As Hawke approached, the strange light grew brighter.

"What the—?" She studied the form. The light appeared to increase in brightness the closer she got.

She rolled the limp body over with her foot.

"What is it?" Merrill asked, appearing directly behind Hawke.

"I'm not sure, stand back a bit," She said, pausing briefly before reaching down for the strange object.

It looked to be a large staff. Its body was black marble, cracked with shimmering gold lines that spread about like a labyrinth of veins. At the grip, a large red stone was deeply embedded into the material, surrounded by subtle but intricate carvings. Near the top of the staff, a sharp blade curved into an insidious hook.

As soon as her hand made contact with the item, her entire body froze, clenching onto the staff.

"What is this?" Hawke's voice was strained, as a crushing pressure filled her body, "I can feel it… inside me."

The burning pain seared through her, she couldn't see or hear anything but the light that seemed to coursed through her veins and behind her eyes. Just as she felt she couldn't take any more pressure, everything stopped. There was a momentary pause of silence before a blast rocketed from Hawke and spread throughout the room.

She hit the ground hard, and a rumbling immediately sounded around them.

She was only just able to roll away from a crumbling wall as it crashed down around them. When all of the commotion had settled, Hawke took stock of the area around her. Dust still hung heavy in the air, but she could make out Varric and Isabela, brushing off their armor through the haze.

"Well, that doesn't seem safe." Varric looked from the weapon in Hawke's hand to the collapsing stone around them, "Do you even know how to use a staff?"

Hawke eyed him as though the question was outrageous, "Of course I know how to use one."

"Well, I've never seen you use one before."

Hawke was slightly offended, and she was sure it showed. Trying desperately to recall lessons from her father, she began swinging the weapon around casually,

"Of course you haven't. Look at it! I can't walk around Kirkwall with this thing. What am I going to tell people, it's just a really big walking stick?"

In her overconfidence, she had lost her focus and a burst of energy shot out of the end, narrowly avoiding Varric's head.

Hawke grimaced, ceasing her movements, and holding the staff with more care.

"_Of course I know how to use one_," Varric mimicked Hawke, looking at the scorched wall behind him.

She looked down at the staff, studying it's twisting form. It was strange, but somehow the piece felt like a part of her. As though it wasn't just a weapon, but an extension of herself.

"What's going on over there?" Merrill's voice called, muffled through a barrier of rocks.

"Nothing!" Varric shouted at the wall, "Rivaini, Hawke, and I are fine. Who's over there?"

"Anders, Fenris, and Carver," Merrill answered, "and me… Merrill." She quickly added.

"Thank you, Daisy." Varric chuckled a bit, "Well good news is, everyone's okay. Bad news, I don't think there's a way through," he stopped to look at Hawke and the staff, "and shit just keeps getting weirder."

"Hey look at this." Isabela was crouched over the Carta leader's body again, at least the half that hadn't been crushed by stone.

She smoothed out a crumpled piece of paper, and began to read, "_The key is, and always will be, part of the cage that holds Corypheus. The prison's power is tied to that of the key; as the power of the one waxes, the other wanes. The key's origins are lost to time. All we know is it is ancient and powerful. The Warden's of old uncovered a few of its secrets—just enough to draw upon its magic to create the seals that hold him._" She stopped to look up, and Varric waved her on, encouraging her to continue,

"_The key appears to attune itself to whichever mage last wielded it to reinforce the prison. I__t is the nature of the magic, something in the blood. The key is currently attuned to one Nesairis Hawke, the last mage to hold it. It is the only thing that can break Corypheus free."_

"Well, that was informative." Merrill's still muffled voice called through the stone.

"Hawke, you said you'd heard that name before. Nesairis? Family relation of yours?" Varric asked.

She shrugged her shoulders, "A distant one if it is. Only just heard the name today."

She continued to sift through information in her mind before speaking again,

"Well, I guess we need to find this key if we're going to get to Corypheus."

"Are you sure that's where you want to go." Varric caught Hawke's gaze for a moment.

"Gotta' pull the thread, right?" Hawke reminded her friend of the advice he had once given here, what now felt like years ago. She had to know the truth, about everything.

"Gotta' pull the thread." He finally agreed, quoting himself from the same memory, "And I'll be right beside you."

.

* * *

.

With no other choice, the group split up. Varric, Hawke, and Isabela continued forward, while Anders, Merrill, Fenris, and Carver searched for a new way through the underground labyrinth.

After about an hour of travel, Isabela suggested they stopped to rest at an abandoned campsite.

A small fire kept them warm as they nursed their meal of stale bread and ale.

Hawke leaned back on her arms, studying Varric and Isabela around the flickering flame. She had missed this, the messy adventures, and dangerous explorations with her companions. No Meredith, no Kirkwall, no Templars vs. mages.

Life certainly hadn't been boring as of late, but hers had become a little too political for her taste. While Kirkwall had become her home, the suddenly publicity of her life was something she could do without.

A strange animal whined somewhere in the distance and Hawke sighed, leaning back on her hands, "Someday I'll visit a place with no evils, horrors, devouring plagues, or insanity… maybe a beach?"

Isabela was sprawled out on her side, lying next to Hawke, "I can recommend a few if you'd like?" she smiled.

"Please do." She leaned forward.

"The day you go to the beach is the day an armada of angry, demon pirates shows up." Varric pointed his stale bread at Hawke.

"He's got a point. Stay away from my beaches." Isabela rolled onto her back and sat up.

Hawke raised her palms, "I think if I can take down a dragon, I can handle some demon pirates."

"That thing was tiny! Take down a high dragon and we'll talk." Varric passed a bottle of ale to Isabela.

Hawke smiled distantly, as if imaging the great battle, "If I ever find a high dragon, I'm keeping it. Naming it something like Alderon destroyer of words, or Isabela."

She dodged a crusty piece of bread that flew at her face.

"I thought all you Fereldan dog lords wanted a Mabari." Varric laughed.

"You can't just _get _a mabari, Varric." Hawke looked a little insulted, "A mabari chooses you." "Plus, no hound I know can breathe fire so…" she held up her hands as if weighing the options.

"Well, at least a dragon might be more reliable than Broody." Varric took a sip from the bottle that had returned back to him, "I ask him to do one simple thing: get Hawke to the docks." He turned to look at Isabela who was grinning, "That's a simple request right?"

The pirate nodded seriously, "Very simple."

"And yet." Varric held out his arms, looking around the dank cavern.

"You get what you paid for, dwarf." Hawke feigned disinterest, "When you hire raiders don't be surprised if they're unreliable."

"Oh, I don't think it was the raiders that got… what was the word Fenris used?" Isabela looked to Varric.

"Distracted." He replied, both turning their attentions back to Hawke.

Hawke eyed them skeptically. There was no way Fenris had told them anything, but she could also see how his lack of information was often even more telling, especially for the ever-discerning rouges.

"Well, we all make mistakes. I don't foresee it happening again." Hawke grabbed the bottle from Isabela, taking a very large mouthful.

"And everyone calls me a bull-shitter." Varric laughed a little, "I know Broody is a pain in the ass, but he's not done."

"Well maybe I'm the one that's done." Hawke said the words with more force than intended. But as she said them, she realized there was truth behind them.

She hadn't actually grasped how serious she was until the words had slipped out.

Everything in Hawke's life was a mess. That was fine. She had good friends, and enough adventure to choke a bogfisher, but she had been exhausted by rejection.

This thing with Fenris… whatever it was, wasn't working for either of them. He was clearly holding back. He wasn't ready, and she wasn't sure she could wait until that changed. Because in the end, Hawke needed something too. While she wasn't sure what exactly that was, she knew this wasn't it.

.

* * *

.

Merrill walked slowly, bringing up the tail of the group. She studied the three men that trudged ahead in brooding silence. It figures she'd get suck with these mud sticks… sticks in the mud… whatever the human saying was.

While Fenris, Carver, and Anders marched on Merrill decided to play a game to entertain herself: guessing the color of their underclothes.

It was a game Isabela played often (and was alarmingly accurate at as well).

Merrill began with Carver. Dark, but simple. Something that came off as casual, but was actually a very conscious effort. She remembered Isabela's advice, given with the pirate's wicked grin Merrill so admired,

"_You have to visualize it, kitten." _

She pictured Carver in his room, probably modeling in front of a mirror. She imagined the tall, muscular warrior posing and flexing his arms... Black. His underwear was definitely black.

A bubble of laughter escaped her lips before she could stop it. Carver looked at the Dalish woman in confusion, to which she smiled as innocently as possible until he cracked a small grin in return, before turning back around.

Now Anders.

She studied the mage's gait, marching forward in his billowing robes of dark silks and feathers. Dramatic, but smart. She tried to picture him without his layered robes like she had Carver. It was late at the Clinic. Only a few lanterns were lit, as Anders laid across his cot to read, naked.

"Oh. _Oh my._" She hadn't realized that she had made the quiet exclamation aloud until Fenris gave her a distrustful scowl. Though she supposed that was sort of always how the elf's face looked.

She smiled gleefully. She couldn't wait to share her game's results with Isabela, who would undoubtedly be proud of Merrill's careful assessments. She was just about to turn her attention to Fenris when Carver's voice broke the long-standing silence.

"So, Fenris, how have you been?"

Merrill watched Fenris exchange an un-amused glance with the inquiring warrior, remaining silent.

Carver sighed, "Do I know anyone who isn't always brooding?"

"Like attracts like, it seems." Fenris said, still maintaining his gaze straight ahead.

Carver ignored him, looking around, "I think we've been here before. Did we turn left or right last time?"

"What does it matter? Lost is lost." Fenris sighed as the group came to a stop.

"I'm trying to change that you sour—how does Hawke put up with you?"

"She doesn't," Anders took a sip of water, "anymore."

"Right, almost forgot." Carver took the offered bottle from Anders, "can't say it's not a relief to not have to worry about Tevinter magisters attacking our home."

"Hawke doesn't need my help finding trouble." Fenris said with practiced disinterest, but his tense poster revealed his greater irritation.

She wondered why Fenris wasn't correcting them. He loved Hawke, and she loved him. If Merrill could see it, surely everyone else had noticed by now.

If they had kissed again, Merrill only assumed that meant something had changed.

She decided to clarify the events, "Wait, I thought Hawke was kidnapped because you two were—," Merrill began before Fenris' death stare stopped her train of thought.

Carver looked between the two, narrowing his eyes, "What do you mean? What happened?"

Oh right. Carver hadn't been there. _Oops,_ "Oh, nothing. Forgot what I was even talking about." She smiled at Carver, "aren't all of these rocks so nice?"

Merrill began humming, ignoring the suspicious gaze from the warrior, so Carver turned to a largely disinterested Anders for information instead.

The mage shrugged his shoulders, sifting through his pack on the ground, "Seems like the elf can't decide to if he wants to keep his pants on or off when he's with your sister."

Carver looked back at Fenris, an angry gleam in his eye before it faded to something more serious, "My sister has been through enough, elf. Don't you think?"

"I think Hawke can make her own decisions." Fenris responded coldly.

There was a long tense silence in which Merrill felt a little guilty for bringing up Hawke. So, she attempted to lessen the tension by starting a new topic of conversation,

"So… Carver, how do you like the Grey Wardens?"

"Yes, you've taken to life as a warden," Anders stopping adjusting his pack, and stood up, pulling it over his shoulder. He gave Carver a measured look, "I figured you for the type."

Merrill shot Anders a confused look. By the Dread Wolf, was there anything these men wouldn't quarrel over?

"I'm not the coward you are, if that's what you're saying." Carver bit back.

She caught the look of amusement that flashed over Fenris' face.

Merrill rolled her eyes and continued forward, leading the march. There wasn't a force in Thedas that could stop this ornery group from bickering.

"The plight of every mage is my burden. You'd think with your lineage you'd understand." Anders hit home, literally, by mentioning Carver's family, and an argument quickly erupted.

Justice had been affecting Anders more and more. The mage was already grumpier than Fenris, who was far too grumpy already in Merrill's opinion. Lately however, Anders had moments of near delirium that were extremely troublesome.

The man she had met a few years ago was slipping away, gradually feeding and warping Justice. He had grown colder towards Merrill in the past year. He no longer invited the Dalish woman to work in his clinic, or allowed himself to become wrapped up in her loosely plotted schemes to feed every hungry kitten in Kirkwall.

His detachment hadn't come as a complete surprise, of course. Even the freer, more humorous man of the past hadn't trusted Merrill much farther than he could throw her. She became momentarily distracted with the image of Anders heaving her across a deep crevasse. Varric and Carver were there too, holding up large, handmade scorecards.

She shook the image from her mind, focusing on her original train of thought.

She wasn't a fool. She saw the worried looks from concerned friends, and heard the venomous words that their fear encouraged. Yet here she was, still standing, _not_ the host of another demon or spirit.

Was it blood magic that led down such paths, or fear, and weakness of will? Merrill was pretty sure it wasn't the magic.

Since everyone was distracted, either by arguments or their own thoughts, no one seemed to notice when a strange man limped onto the path ahead of them. Merrill was the first to spot the stranger, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. He looked sickly pale and grey. His eyes were sallow, and sunken in the back of his head. They darted around the room endlessly, never resting for more than a moment.

This sudden halt had a ripple effect on the rest of the party as they each crashing into one another, and stumbled forward.

"What—," Merrill heard Fenris begin to growl before he was interrupted by a startled shout from Anders, who had apparently also noticed the strange person approaching them.

The man hobbled nearer, but remained hunched over, as if shielding himself from the little light the deep caverns provided.

"The key! Did they find it? The dwarves… I heard them… looking, digging." His gravely voice carried a sort of maniacal quality, changing in pitch without pattern or reason.

"What—who are you?" Anders stepped passed Merrill, examining the man.

The stranger shrunk away from the mage before he could get too close, "No time! Did you bring the key here?"

"What key?" Anders stopped his pursuit, lest the man retreat completely.

"Magic, old magic…from the blood. It made the seals, it can destroy them." His speech came out haltingly, as though he hadn't spoken in some time, "A staff. Very powerful."

"Marion." Carver said what everyone else was thinking. Was this man speaking about the strange staff that Hawke had found?

"Marrrion…" the man sounded out the name slowly, as if it tasted strange in his mouth.

"My sister. She has the key. Is she in danger?" Carver stepped next to Anders.

"Sister?" he limped forward, smelling the air around Carver, much to the warrior's confusion, "She wields the key?" the stranger paced in circles quickly before returning to stop in front of Carver, "No, no, no, you do not smell right."

"Look who's talking," Carver stepped back, mildly offended.

Fenris groaned somewhere behind Merrill, and Anders rolled his eyes before addressing the stranger again, "Can you help us find her?"

"Yes…" the man looked like he was still considering the proposition even as he agreed, "Yes. Follow. Follow me." He limped away without another word.

"Are we sure this is wise." Fenris finally spoke from the back of the group, his tone clearly stating his opinion on the matter.

"I don't think we have much choice." Anders appeared to not like the decision as much as Fenris.

Without another word, the group set out. Following the new leader.

.

* * *

.

"Alright, another crumbling pillar. You know what that means." Varric turned around to look at Hawke and Isabela.

"Everybody takes a drink!" The pirate uncorked the bottle in her hand, passing it to Hawke.

"Remember last time we played this?" Hawke took a drink and returned the bottle, "and Anders kissed that Ogre."

Isabela choked on her drink, spitting some up on her shirt, "I can't believe I almost forgot about that."

"You made me!" Anders voice called from the distance somewhere behind them, "You literally held my head, and pushed it into its dead face."

"Details, details." Isabela waved her hand nonchalantly through the air.

It took a moment for them to realize that hearing Anders meant that the other group had finally found them. After half a second's pause, Isabela and Hawke simultaneous swung around to face the origins of the voice.

"Anders!" Hawke shouted, squinting to spy the approaching group in the dimly lit cavern, "Everyone!" It was a relief to see their remaining companions again.

Anders, Merrill, and Carver filed in one-by-one, stopping in front of their rouge companions.

Hawke tensed a bit when Fenris came to a stop nearest her. She supposed she should be a little grateful that the man had turned her away recently. Had their friendship continued to progress in the direction it was heading, things would have undoubtedly become more complicated between them. Fenris' inaction back in Kirkwall had said everything that needed to be said. Now Hawke could move on, and Fenris could do what he needed to do. No awkward and uncomfortable conversation necessary.

Suddenly, Carver adjusted his place in line, settling himself between his sister and Fenris.

She quirked a brow at her brother, eyeing him suspiciously. She was almost completely certain that he wasn't coming to stand near her because he had missed her presence. Before she could study his intentions further however, a strange man limped forward.

Hawke and Isabela stumbled back, "Shit. What the—?"

"He's alright." Anders shrugged at their confused and uncertain expressions, "He helped us find you, said we can use the key to get out of here."

"The key?" Hawke asked, tilting her head slightly, still keeping her gaze on the strange man.

"Yesss," the man hissed lowly, "You have the key?" He moved closer to Hawke.

"This thing?" She pulled the staff around from her back, continuing to speak,

"So, are you the famed Corypheus we've been hearing so much about?"

"Do not say his name!" he recoiled from her quickly, "He will hear you! Do not wake him, not when you hold the key."

Hawke sighed, looking at Anders and Merrill, "So, does this guy want to drink my blood too?"

"Blood? The blood of the Hawke?" he came to stand close, sniffing about her body, "Yes, I smell it on you. You hold the key, the key to his death!" the man was becoming increasingly excited, "I can show you out. Yes…" he began walking away.

"Not to be rude, but who are you… what's… wrong with you?" Hawke asked, succeeding in being rude anyway.

"Hawke, you can't just ask someone why they're crazy." Varric nudged her side with his elbow.

The man turned around quickly, angered by her question, "You ask me that? I am the one who belongs here, not you! You are no darkspawn."

"That armor," Carver stepped forward, peering at the strange man, "Its warden issue. No one else has that."

The man studied Carver a long moment, a strange smile playing at the corner of his lips, "You hear it don't you? I smell it in you, not the blood of Hawke. The dark blood, my blood."

"I _am_ a Hawke." Carver said forcefully, clearly growing tired of this constant defense.

"No, no, no." the stranger paced around, sounding upset, "You do not have it. But you do have the curse," he turned to face Anders, "and you too."

He twisted away from them, walking in a quick circle, "I know the way out. Follow me. Down and in, down and in…"

Hawke wasn't so sure it was wise to trust this… man, "Listen, your help is appreciated, but who are you?"

"Name… so long since I've said my name. I… Larius. There was a title too… Commander. Commander of the Grey." Larius' eyes stilled for the first time, becoming distant and silent.

"He was a Grey Warden. Poor retch must have come down here on his calling." Anders crossed his arms, looking at Hawke.

"His calling?"

Both Anders and Carver ignored Hawke's question, "That's how it affects you?" Carver tilted his head over to Larius.

Anders gave him a sympathetic look before glancing away, unable or unwilling to hold his gaze.

"Yes. The calling!" Larius shouted, "The songs get louder. Only death stops them. I am dead. Only I never died."

"Anders, Carver, what are you talking about?" Hawke's confusion was only growing, though something told her she was not going to like the answer.

Anders looked at Carver before turning reluctantly to Hawke, "Wardens aren't immune to the taint forever. In time, we start to hear voices. The same ones darkspawn hear. When it becomes to much…" he trailed off, eyes moving to the hunched and mangled form of Larius pacing the path in front of them.

"Not exactly a heroes end, is it?" Carver smiled grimly at his sister.

Hawke didn't know what to say. Was this the life she had condemned her brother to? Her gaze fell to the ground while she considered the unjust fate. Her brother had gotten one thing right, maybe it was a good thing their mother wasn't around to see them.

After a long moment of silence, she turned back to Larius, "How can we trust you?"

"I know the prison's secrets. Nothing ever leaves… not without the key. You must use it on the seals. Only then, they open. Only for the Hawke."

Hawke turned from him, running a hand through her hair, she was beginning to deeply regret not leaving this place earlier. "Again with _the Hawke_. Nesairis? Is that who you're talking about?" She was growing frustrated, her patience clearly waning.

Larius ignored her, "The only way out, is down." He turned again and began limping away, "Down, down, down, in the depths."

Hawke closed her eyes, and placed her hands on her waist. Releasing a deep, slow breath, she attempted to reign in her rising irritation. After a moment's meditation, she turned to her companions, "Well, I guess we don't have much of a choice, do we?"

"Sister—," Carver caught her eye, holding her gaze for a long moment before appearing to change his mind, "Careful. Things down here… they can get complicated."

She smiled tightly at her brother, "Noted."

With that, the companions set off, into the depths.

.

* * *

.

**Thank you so much. All of you are amazing!**

**Dani.777- **Thank you for always reading and reviewing! I know, Hawke is fed up with his waiting, just like you! haha.

In Fenris' defense, he has a lot of baggage to work through. He's just not very graceful at figuring it all out ;) I hope you liked this chapter!

**Anneamarie01- **That review gave me wings, and I haven't come down yet! You're so sweet. I really, truly appreciate your words, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!


	18. Chapter 18

The next hour of descent was largely uneventful, which was making it increasingly difficult for Hawke to ignore her troubled thoughts. The lighter tone from earlier has quickly evaporated as the group made their way deeper into the cave, replaced instead by stale air and an unyielding stench of rot.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally entered into a large, open, stone room. A light glowed steadily at the opposite end. Hawke stepped forward cautiously, studying the shimmering cage. A demon appeared to be trapped behind some sort of magical barrier.

"What in the—," Varric began when a voice suddenly interrupted him, reverberating off the walls that surrounded the group.

It was a low and measured woman's voice that possessed an ethereal sort of quality; seemingly manifested from thin air. Something about it was so familiar to Hawke; she just couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"_Be bound for eternity. Hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Creators, so let it be." _

"What was that?" Carver jerked his head around, searching the room as if to find the source.

The voice began again, _"I can do nothing about the Warden's use of demons in this horrid place. But I will have no one say any magic of mine ever released one into the world." _

"That voice, does it seem… familiar?" Hawke turned to her brother. She could swear that she had heard it before. It filled her with a strange sense of comfort and calm, a stark contrast to their current situation.

Carver shook his head, "I don't think I know any other Dalish besides Merrill."

Hawke looked at her brother, perplexed, "How do you know they're Dalish?"

"Uh," Carver raised a brow at his sister as if she was wearing underclothes on her head, "the Elf…" he looked at Merrill to remember the word.

"—ven." She finished, "Elven."

"Yeah, the Elvish sort of gave it away." He turned back to his sister.

Hawke looked around at the group in confusion. Had she missed something? She had only heard the common tongue, clear as day.

Merrill seemed to be the first to catch on to Hawke's puzzlement.

"Hawke, what did you hear?" she asked slowly, tilting her head a bit, as though Hawke was one of her mysterious studies.

She hesitated before speaking, wary of the expressions her friends wore, "I don't know, a spell or something? I would guess whatever ritual is keeping these demons in here." She gestured with her hand towards the creature pacing behind the orange barrier.

Merrill's eyes gleamed with curiosity and excitement.

"Stop looking at me like I'm your mirror, Merrill." Hawke placed her hands on her hips.

"Sorry. Sorry." The woman threw up her hands, making an effort to look elsewhere.

"Lets just keep going." Hawke marched forward, escaping the inquiring and worried gazes of her companions.

They continued on, further into the depths of the mysterious ruin. The group fought through an apparently endless maze of demons and darkspawn, while Hawke attempted to shake the strange feeling that rested deep in her stomach.

The group finally came upon a large room lined by coulombs. In the center was a bulky, circular platform that radiated a bright green.

Hawke released a heavy sigh; placing her hands on her hips as she studied the ominous structure, "Let me guess. The first seal?"

Larius limped forward from the back of the group,

"Two thousand years! The magic holds, never broken." He urged Hawke forward,

"Give it the key, let it take the magic back to itself. Absorb it. All who came before…" he trailed off, looking at Hawke expectantly.

Varric looked around the room before turning back to her, "This seems… dangerous."

"What isn't these days?" She remained planted in her spot before pushing out a quick breath, and taking the first step forward.

She felt a hand reach out, grabbing her wrist and ceasing her movements. The warmth of Fenris' markings humming against her skin was immediately familiar.

She turned her head slowly to meet his eyes, and was taken aback by the worry and seriousness that colored his expression. They had spoken little, if at all, since the disaster at the docks, and she wasn't sure she could handle that conversation now.

He seemed like he was going to speak, opening his mouth briefly before shutting it again. Instead he held his tongue, swallowing heavily. Hawke found herself unable to turn herself away from his gaze.

Someone coughed roughly to her left, causing her eyes to flicker towards the source, Carver. By the time her eyes returned back to Fenris, his hold was slipping limply from her arm. The previous warmth immediately faded from her skin.

He cleared his throat, as if shaking himself awake,

"Be careful, we do not know what depraved magic this cavern holds."

_Of course. Terrible, evil magic. _

She took a step back, "Well, that's half the fun." She quirked a humorless smile, turning from Fenris and steadying her mind.

Hawke slowly walked to the center of the platform. Removing the staff from her back, she held it in her hand and faced one of the sparking pylons. A burst of flame energy immediately shot towards her.

She instinctively flinched away from the burst, expecting to feel it's burning fire against her body, but instead of damaging her, the burst was completely absorbed by the staff.

After a moment of still silence, Hawke slowly opened her eyes. She studied the weapon, and released a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"The blood works!" Larius shouted, practically leaping with glee, his voice scratching and squeaking in excitement.

"What would have happened if it didn't work?" Hawke asked apprehensively, turning to face the strange man.

He waved his hand, turning away from her, an eager energy to his step, "No matter. It is good!"

"So… I opened the seal. Can we leave now?" Hawke returned the staff to its holster on her back.

Larius shook his head quickly, "There are more."

Hawke groaned, stepping down from the platform, "Of course there are."

"Follow them in, all the way into the heart. Many locks, only one key." The man began to ramble and pace the room before stopping in his tracks.

He looked around suddenly, as if he had heard something disturbing, "Corypheus calls! In the darkness, he waits."

With that, their guide disappeared as quickly as he had materialized.

.

* * *

.

With no other option, they continued forward. When the group finally came across more glowing seals, the mysterious woman's voice spoke again,

"_Be bound for eternity, hunger stilled…." _

Hawke tuned out the speech, focusing instead on why it sounded so familiar. Where would she have heard this woman before? It felt almost like…a dream. Why could she understand what she was saying? Was it some magic of the staff?

Suddenly the speech changed, bringing her attention back to the present.

"_I may not be a part of your precious circle, but I still took a vow: My magic will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base."_

Hawke's heart skipped a beat. That was something her father had always said. Repeated it endlessly to Hawke and Bethany, until she found herself practically reciting the mantra in her sleep.

"Father—," was all she could get out as her mind continued to race, pondering all of the potential explanations.

Carver stepped beside her, "What—?"

She made a noncommittal noise, ignoring her brother as her mind continued working through the increasingly strange events of this entire excursion.

The voice began again, but this time a blue haze appeared seemingly from nowhere, slowly taking shape.

Everyone turned to watch the apparition with wary curiosity; it looked almost like a spirit that had crossed the veil. The image was unclear, but Hawke thought she could make out a vague form of a woman.

The shape began to speak, wearied, but curt,

"_I've bought our freedom, Mal. You need to get out of here."_

Another figure took shape, followed by a man's voice,

"_Come with me, Ness. We can be together, us and the baby."_ The voice paused, chuckling lightly, _"I hope it doesn't take after either of us too much. I would wish this magic on no one."_

Hawke's stomach clenched violently. That was her father's voice. She would have recognized it anywhere. It had been years since she had heard it, years longer since it had sounded so earnest and strong, but it was undoubtedly his.

"_There is no baby, Mal."_ The woman's voice spoke harshly.

"_What?"_ Her father's breath hitched in shock, _"What happened?"_

"_I...I don't know, but it's gone."_ The woman's voice softened briefly before returning to its original sharp tone, _"and you need to leave too."_

"_Ness—,"_

"_There's nothing left to say… go back to the Ores. I have work to do, and you're just a distraction." _

The smoke dissipated, leaving everyone in confused silence.

"What the fuck is going on?" Carver stepped forward.

"Could everyone understand that?" Hawke turned to the group; her brother's bewildered expression answering her question well enough.

"Was that—?" Carver looked at his sister.

She took a hesitant step towards where the figures had once stood, "I think so."

"What are you two talking about?" Varric waved, trying to get the siblings' attention.

"That man." Hawke turned to Varric, "I think that was our father."

The group's confusion only seemed to deepen.

"Do you know who he was talking to?" Varric looked around the room as though he might find some new information they had previously missed.

"No." Hawke answered absently, still distracted by her own thoughts.

"No woman I know of." Carver seemed angry, "And what did she mean, go back to the Ores? The Crimson Ore's?"

Hawke hadn't told her about the discovery in her father's books. With everything that had happened since then, including her mother's death, she had honestly forgotten about the secret messages.

The decrypted codes Merrill found had led Hawke to believe her father had once worked for the mercenary group. What had troubled her the most, however, were the dates. They hadn't at all matched up with her father's time in the Circle. The secrets of Malcolm Hawke appeared to have no end.

Something else was also bothering Hawke, scratching at the back of her mind. The woman's voice was still so familiar…and yet somehow not at all.

Carver interrupted her thoughts, releasing a string of questions, "What was he talking about? What baby? When was this?"

"Carver, I don't know." Hawke snapped at her brother with more venom than intended.

"Well, he clearly didn't want a child with magic." Carver laughed humorlessly, "Got that one wrong twice over. I guess this Warden is looking pretty good right about now."

She raised a brow at her brother, "Congratulations. Your prize is a smug sense of satisfaction."

"I think maybe we should keep going." Varric stepped between them, attempting to defuse the tension.

"Look, I didn't mean…" Carver sighed, "No, you're right, I'll just stop talking."

Hawke knew she should let it go, but she was still feeling bitter, "Praise be."

"Stop that. I agreed." Carver sounded irritated.

"Oh, good." She bit back a smile, realizing she was succeeding in infuriating her brother.

"You don't always get to have the last word." His brow furrowed in a manner with which Hawke was incredibly accustomed.

There was a long pause while both siblings stared each other down, Carver daring Hawke to speak.

"Fine."

A small twitch played at the corner of Hawke's mouth as she stoically watched Carver's gaze grow increasingly murderous. The reliability of his annoyance always served as a perfect distraction for the unreliability of the rest of life.

"Look, ale!" Everyone turned to face Varric and Merrill, coming around the corner with a few sealed bottles in their arms, "Gotta' love those Dwarven stereotypes. Drink and walk people. We've got places to be, and darkspwan to kill."

Unsurprisingly, the diversion worked.

Carver sighed, walking towards Merrill, who handed him a bottle after taking a small sip herself.

Hawke took another and wandered ahead of the group. Her mind was still tearing through possibilities. She was completely lost in thought when their guide surprised her, appearing suddenly at her side.

"He is waking."

She jumped, almost spilling her drink, before turning to look at the odd man, "Larius, buddy, we need to work on your conversation starters."

He ignored her, "The magic grows lax. He feels us walk where no step goes."

She sighed, giving up any notion that they might hold a normal exchange, "Are you talking about Corypheus?"

"He calls like an old God. He mimics their cry. He calls them to free him. The dark children and the light, any with taint in their blood."

This Corypheus character was sounding worse the deeper they descended into the dark.

"What is he?"

"More than darkspawn… More than human…" Larius seemed to struggle with his words, "he thinks, he talks, he pierces the veil. He wants what was once his."

"I don't understand any of this." She sighed, taking another drink, "I don't understand why I'm a part of this."

"We are close. So close…" Larius limped ahead a bit, looking nervous. He began to shuffle away faster.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Hawke called after him. Maker, she literally couldn't even make a tainted man stay in her company without running away.

"The voice is too strong. I cannot stay!" He disappeared.

"Maker Hawke, what did you say to him?" Varric chuckled, shouting at her from behind.

Hawke didn't have time for a retort however, before she turned the corner and saw what lay ahead.

The room was immensely cavernous. A thick green haze hung heavy on the ground. The room smelled like an ancient swamp, or perhaps Carver's training gear. She made a mental note to use that insult later.

Large, sharp rocks jutted from the ground in every direction. A crumbling stone path was carved just above the dark water, leading to the center of the room. There, a sandstone tower stood, ancient and menacing. Torches lit the way up the winding path, even further beyond the cavern's ceiling.

"Five sovereigns says that's where we're supposed to go." Isabela placed a hand on her hip.

No one took the bet.

.

* * *

.

It took at least an hour to reach the base of the tower, and fight through yet another seal.

Finally, Larius appeared again, "He feels the seals weaken. He knows you are close! You must be ready." He paced the room silently. Hawke was about to ask him what was next when he looked behind himself quickly, "What's that? No…no, no, no! They're here!"

"Great, more voices that we can't hear." Hawke stepped towards the man.

"Not voices. Worse than the Carta, more treacherous. More dangerous. The Wardens." He spat the title with disgust, "They listen to him; they want to bring the light." He turned and began limping away again, "stop them, you must stop them."

"Annnnd he's gone. Again." Hawke watched him vanish with her hands on her hips.

No sooner had Larius disappeared however, than a small band of Warden's appeared around the corner. A tall woman leading the pack. Her companions readied their weapons.

"Something is happening." The warden marched forward with determination, speaking to the soldiers following her, "The prisons breaking down, but it's stood up to tunneling before… what could—"

The woman cut off her question with a gasp when she saw Hawke and her companions, "You! You have the key?" her eyes immediately found the staff in Hawke's hand before focusing on the platform behind her, "And you've come through the seals…but how?"

Before waiting for an answer, she continued, "Are you Hawke? The child of Nesairis?" the Warden was rambling at this point, uncaring of Hawke's response, "The Carta said they were close…" she trailed off before finally turning to Hawke and holding out her hand, "I am Janika."

Hawke eyed the offered hand, leaving it hanging in the air.

"I think there has actually been a huge mistake. I don't know a Nesairis." Hawke kept one hand on her waist, turning to look at Varric, "I cannot believe how many times I've said that today. I might just get it tattooed on my forehead."

"But the key? It works…" Janika's eyes swept over the staff, her mind working furiously.

"We heard our father's voice as well." Carver stepped forward, "Malcolm Hawke. Is that name familiar?"

The woman was silent longer, considering the two siblings before speaking again, "Not personally. They were both before my time, but he came with Nesairis," she huffed a laugh, "uninvited as he was."

She gestured to the grand room that surrounded them, "Without her, this prison would have fallen thirty years ago."

Hawke kept her eyes trained on this new stranger, "What is this place?"

"The Wardens built this prison to contain the one of the most powerful darkspawn we've ever encountered, but even the best magic fades." Janika paced in front of the group, "The Wardens needed to reinforce the shields. This requires the blood of a mage…" she chose her next word carefully, "_untainted_ by Warden training. The last to perform the ritual was your mother." She turned back around to face Hawke.

Hawke laughed a humorless, surprised bark, "My mother wasn't even a mage. Much less a user of blood magic."

The woman all but completely ignored her, "To avert the Blights, forbidden magic is sometimes required. She did not bind the demons, if that is your concern." Janika seemed bored by the conversation, "that was done in another era, before the Chantry's laws."

Hawke was exhausted, "None of this changes the fact that you have the wrong family. I don't know how my father was involved in this, but our mother certainly wasn't." Hawke crossed her arms.

Carver stepped forward, "They've already tried my blood, and it doesn't work."

Janika studied them, "And yet she wields the key…" she considered it further, "It is likely due to the Taint you carry." She turned to Carver, "Or your blood could be different." She responded as if the answers were inconsequential.

Carver laughed in surprise," As much as I wish that was true, it's not possible."

"Anything is possible." She shrugged, "but the _why_ is no matter. I've done extensive research on this darkspawn. He isn't a threat like the other Wardens once believed." Janika became excited, "He's our greatest opportunity. A darkspawn who can think, talk, feel, reason!"

Laruis suddenly appeared again, apparently having heard enough.

"Corypheus cares nothing for Blights! He used you."

"Warden Commander?" One of the warden's behind Janika gasped in surprise, but she was quick to cut them off.

"Don't listen to this creature! He's half darkspawn himself. I know how to harness Corypheus, use his magic to end the Blights!"

"No! The Wardens knew. He's too powerful. He calls her, and she listens." Larius paced desperately, "She brought the Carta, sent them for you."

Larius turned to address Janika, "He's tricked you. Your voice, his thoughts."

Hawke looked between the two for a minute before responding, "I don't know what weird shit is going on here, but if you two will excuse me, I have a freaky, telepathic darkspawn to kill."

Jankia drew her sword, and stepped back, addressing Larius directly, "Hand over Hawke, and I'll give you a quick death."

"She has made her choice." Larius hissed.

Janika's eyes darted quickly between Hawke and Larius before a wicked grin spread across her face, "Her choice? Or the only choice? Nesairis was not allowed to disagree."

Hawke watched Larius' eyes widen, and then darken as he responded, "That was a different time!"

"You knew her? And my father?" Hawke asked, disbelieving he hadn't revealed this information until now, "What does she mean, 'not allowed'?"

Larius allowed his sword to slump, lost in thought.

"How does she know this?" he seemed to be speaking to himself more than anyone else. "Alec," he called to one of the Warden's behind Janika, "Did you tell her?"

He was only met by silence.

He turned from everyone, hobbling a few steps to the edge of the room, "Nesairis Hawke was reluctant. She had to be… persuaded."

His pace increased, eyes darting about aimlessly, "I was Warden Commander! It was my duty." He seemed to be chastising himself.

Finally Larius' motions ceased, turning slowly to face Hawke, "I delivered an ultimatum. Help us, or she would never see him again."

"You… threatened her?" Hawke didn't try to mask her distaste.

"Him? You mean were going to kill our father?" Carver pushed forward, irate.

"No! It was just a threat." Larius dropped his arm by his side, defeated, "It didn't matter. We didn't need him."

Hawke's eyes narrowed at the man, "What do you mean?"

"She was pregnant. That risk was enough."

"We heard something, an echo, a memory." Hawke tried to describe what they had encountered, her voice hardening, "She lost the baby. Probably from the stress of having her life threatened."

Hawke was furious. She ached for this poor woman, and her lost child. She ached for answers about her father.

"You see Hawke, how can you trust him? After what he put your family though?" Janika's sickly sweet voice broke through her thoughts.

Hawke steadied her breath. She didn't trust any of these assholes, "I'm not here about the past. Corypheus is still a threat."

Janika's eyes shot daggers, her voice quickly turning sharp. "You can come willingly or not, I just need your blood."

.

* * *

.

The battle with the Wardens was quicker than Hawke would have expected. When the last Warden fell, Larius shuffled from his hiding place in the shadows.

"Come on." He began limping up the steep tower path, unable or unwilling to meet Hawke's eye.

They followed reluctantly.

After some time, Hawke and her beleaguered companions finally reached the top of the stone tower.

She pushed open a large wooden door to reveal the night sky. The fresh air washed over Hawke, as she drank in the stars and expansive desert. The world around them was alive, but quiet. Only a wolf seemed to howl in the distance.

"Oh, that's nice." Varric said, stopping next to Hawke.

The long path ahead stretched across a deep chasm, leading directly towards an ominous, glowing structure.

"What's nice?" Merrill came to a stop on the other side of Hawke.

"Oh, I was just wondering what some place sinister and foreboding would look like," Varric released a long sigh, "and here it is."

They followed Larius across the bridge and into the open stone room.

Magic crackled and burst in the air around them. The structure was completely open to the outside, with only a cracked ceiling for shelter. Surrounding a large stone platform in the center of the room were enormous, golden statues, each positioned along the edge of the circular space.

Hawke moved towards one of the bronzed statues with caution as Larius spoke, a fury overtaking his voice,

"He stirs! Kill him now before he gains his strength. Use your blood. Free him, and slay him."

"What?" Hawke heard Fenris speak for perhaps the first time in hours, "Are you sure this is wise?"

Hawke paused, attempting to assess the possible outcomes. This certainly wasn't her first choice of action. Unfortunately, Option A basically revolved around her learning dragon mind-control. So with the current limitations, this would have to do.

She looked into Fenris' eyes, hoping her choice wouldn't drive him further away, but accepting the possibility that it might.

"I have to end this."

"You do not even know that your blood will work. You've said it yourself, you didn't know this woman." Fenris' practiced calm was fracturing.

"Everything else has worked," Hawke shrugged her shoulders, "I have to at least try."

He sighed, "Isn't that always the case." He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her, so she continued forward.

Hawke walked slowly towards the first sculpture. The statue was immense, a towering golden bird with its wings spread; a small, rusted goblet sat at the base.

Her companions stood close behind as she used a dagger to cut down the palm of her hand, allowing some of her blood to drip into the brass cup.

Immediately, the barrier exploded, bursting with light. The beam of energy that had once connected the statue to the room's center disappeared, and the central platform seemed to dim.

"Holy shit. It works." She said with some amount of awe, and a lot of trepidation.

She moved quickly through the other two golden figures with similar results.

Approaching the final barrier, Varric spoke up behind her, "Last one. Last chance to change your mind."

She rolled her eyes, not even bothering to turn around. She had certainly come too far to turn back now.

"Be careful, sister." Carver stepped next to her, looking solemn.

She gave her brother a quick nod before approaching the central platform. She reached for the last goblet, dripping in more blood from her open wound.

A quiet pause followed the ritual, lasting a few seconds, and giving Hawke just enough time to wonder if something had gone wrong. Then, the seal erupted.

Four purple lanterns lit from pillars around her, their glow steadily increasing. The key gently floated from her hand, suspended in the middle of the platform. A bright light burst from the center of the seal, meeting the beams emitted by the four lanterns in the center above her. In an instant, the energy exploded, sending Hawke and the staff flying back, and off the stone dais.

Before the dust and debris even settled, a shadowy figure emerged from the platform, tall and looming.

Its skin was grey and blue, and rotting that appeared to be stretched too thin over bits of red stone and bone. The creature floated high above them, its long sharp nails stretching out in freedom.

"Be this some dream I wake from? Am I in Dwarven lands?" Corypheus spoke to himself before finally noticing Hawke, "You! Serve you the temple of Dumat? Bring me hence, I must speak with the first Acolyte."

Hawke stared, mouth agape, looking on in confusion.

Larius turned to her, "He speaks of the old gods, of the Imperium."

'You... are no man." Corypheus narrowed his gaze at Larius, "do you belong to the empire, or be you of Dwarven blood?"

He didn't wait for an answer before continuing, "Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter! On your knees, all of you!" He spread his clawed arms open wide, eyeing the strange group before him.

"Oh I will enjoy killing this… thing." Fenris gripped his longsword.

Hawke finally found her voice, clearing her throat before addressing the darkspawn creature, "Sorry, I think you're a little confused, and a lot crazy. The Free Marches haven't been part of the Imperium for 600 years."

He narrowed his eyes at Hawke in distaste, "You are what held me. I smell the blood in you." He turned from them, "Dumat, lord, tell me. What waking dream is this?"

He paused again, as if trying to remember what exactly had happened, "The light. We sought the golden light! You offered the power of the Gods themselves. But it was black. Corrupt. Darkness, ever since." He finally tuned back to Hawke, "How long?"

Larius turned to Hawke, fear and excitement coloring his voice, "The Golden City. The first violation. The magisters who brought the blight!"

"The original magisters?" Fenris sounded almost more disbelieving than upset, "It is their depravities the magisters of today strive to emanate." His tone turned hard, and menacing, "If they still exist, in any form, we should wipe them from the face of Thedas."

"He seems so confused." Hawke studied the creature, almost feeling pity.

Larius pushed her forward slightly, "He's slept. He knows nothing of times that have passed. We must kill him now."

Carver looked on in a mixture of fear and awe, "You really think he's been to the Black City?"

This caught Corypheus' attention, "The City! It was supposed to be golden! It was supposed to be ours." He began shouting, and flew from the ground, "If I cannot leave with you, I will leave through you. I seek the light!"

.

* * *

.

After a long battle, including what Hawke hoped Varric would later describe as a gigantic, fire-pinwheel of death, she was beginning to wish that she had tried her hand at the dragon mind control idea.

She could see her companions' strength waning, but so was Corypheus'. They just needed a few more hits, and he would be down. She shook her head, denying again the powerful tug in the back of her mind. She wasn't interested in using the exploding party trick if she could help it.

She was focusing most of her attention on the Shriek that had just sprung up behind her when she felt it. The hairs on the back of her neck stood, and her skin began to tingle with sick anticipation. She glanced above her head, where a large volatile ball of electricity was slowly coming to life, ready to take her's. As though it wasn't enough that Corypheus had streams of fire shooting out of his hand, he was also producing powerful storm clouds, overflowing with uncontrolled electric shocks.

She readied her stance, preparing to send one last blast of energy into the darkspawn before she was downed. However, before she could even charge her spell, a force knocked into her side, sending her flying to her right.

She looked up in confusion from her place on the ground. She was no longer in the line of fire for the electricity storm, but Fenris was. Their eyes locked, and Hawke scrambled from the dusty floor towards him, knowing it was too late.

The cloud erupted, sending bolts of energy relentlessly into the closest target.

As Fenris fell to the ground, Hawke released a harsh cry that transformed into a terrifying roar. She released all control of her focus, sending a barrage of attacks towards Corypheus.

One after another, bursts of fire made painful contact with the darkspawn as she advanced forward relentlessly.

Hawke jumped, twisting through the air to narrowly miss a firebomb that did nothing to halt her pace. Her magic and staff were completely intertwined, like one had never existed without the other. Releasing jurisdiction to her instincts, she watched almost in awe as her hands and arms cracked with light and energy.

Sending forth a final blast of fire, a trail of smoke and flame burned directly through the ancient magister.

He collapsed to the ground, but still she hunted, stalking forward with even more determination than before.

When she reached the heap of a man, she grabbed a handful of his robes, lifting him up just enough to face her. She could just make out her glowing eyes in the reflection of Corypheus' own black ones. He seemed afraid, filling her with a satisfaction she couldn't explain.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice weak and broken.

She leaned in closer, licking the blood from her lip and pulling out a concealed dagger, "None of your damn business."

With that, she thrust the dagger into his throat, violently ripping it to one side.

Dark gore spilled from the man, and he fell to the ground, dead.

Hawke stood slowly, wiping her knife on her pants before returning it to its sheath. She could already feel the crippling throb of her head as her mind slowly cleared, and her eyes came back into focus.

Suddenly she remembered Fenris, and his prone form. She twirled around rapidly, briefly lose her footing until a warm hand steadied her,

"Easy there dragon warrior." Varric chuckled a little beside her, using both hands to keep her stable.

"He's fine." He said a little lower, as though the message was just for Hawke.

Hawke hadn't realized how drained she was until her friend was practically holding her up. She scanned the room from where she stood. Carver was perched on one knee, delicately cleaning a smaller wound on Merrill's back, who sat patently cross-legged in front of him. Anders and Isabela lay across stone steps, bloody and exhausted, trading sips of something dark from Anders' bag.

Finally, she found Fenris. He sat near the pirate, but mostly on his own. He was bruised and bloody, and his hair seemed to be slightly burned, disheveled and sticking out at various angles. His skin was marred by cuts and char marks, but he was okay. He was alive.

She was about to slump onto the ground, giving in to her exhaustion, when Larius hobbled up to her.

_Wait_.

She eyed the strange Warden curiously. He wasn't longer limping. In fact, he was displaying a posture that rivaled Orlesian nobility. His eyes fixed on her, no longer drifting about wildly, even his skin appeared to lose some of it's graying decay.

"You did well, Marion Hawke. More than the Grey Warden's of old were able to accomplish. You've gained an ally today."

Hawke glanced down at Varric who seemed to have taken note of the same changes. "Why are you talking like that?" she asked slowly.

"With Corypheus gone, I can think clearly." An unnatural smile spread across his features, revealing brown and pointed teeth, "You have my thanks."

She narrowed her eyes at the man, slightly unsatisfied with his answer, "Well, at least someone got something out of this. I seem to only have more questions."

"I think you have more answers than you yet realize." His smile grew as he turned from them and began walking away, "My gratitude you have, for my freedom." Without another word, he left the room, vanishing around the corner.

Varric and Hawke stared after the man, their heads tilted slightly in confusion.

Hawke glanced down at her friend, "Well that was not creepy. At all."

Varric groaned in agreement before looking up at her, "Let's just get out of here."

.

* * *

.

The set up camp beneath a large crag that jutted out from the sand. The towering stone created a small cave, providing a sort of premade shelter for the group. The tower was still visible in the distance, and with how flat the desert plains appeared to be, it would likely be visible for some time to come.

Hawke sat atop the tilted boulder, listening to the laughter of her friends below. The warmth of a small fire just barely touched her toes in the cool night breeze. She leaned back on her hands, briefly closing her eyes when she heard the sound of someone approaching.

Heavy steps crunched through the sand before her brother's voice identified himself,

"It gets harder and harder every year to remember what father was like." he sighed, coming to sit next to her, "These new secrets are definitely not helping with that."

"Would you rather not know the truth?" Hawke asked, genuinely curious.

Carver considered the question for a moment before responding, "Sometimes I think I would… other times, I don't know." He stretched his arms back, groaning as he settled into a lounging position, "I mean all of this… blood magic, that woman…" he paused to look at Hawke, "What do you make of it?"

She had no idea what she thought. In fact, she had just as many theories as questions swimming around in her head, and none of them made sense.

"I think that I am very tired." She tilted her head onto her shoulder, looking at her brother.

He huffed a small laugh before speaking again, "You know life wasn't half bad… for a while. A short while."

She couldn't keep a small grin from playing at the corner of her lips, "I think I blinked and missed it."

They sat for a rare moment of amicable silence, each filtering through personal thoughts and memories.

Soon, Carver pushed himself up to sit, leaning forward slightly, "I guess mother and father wouldn't want us wallowing in the past."

Hawke pulled herself up to sit as well, mirroring her brother, "I don't think either of them got what they wanted out of this life."

They fell into silence again, only interrupted by the murmur of nearby voices, and the popping of the fire below.

"So, back to the way things are?" She saw him glance at her through the corner of his eye, allowing the question to hang in the air.

"Seems that way." She chewed on her lip, nodding her head in small, slow motions.

Carver pushed himself to stand, "Right." He dusted off his armor before beginning to walk away.

He had only made it a few steps before he sighed, turning to face Hawke's back, "Sister…" he sounded on the verge of saying more, so Hawke waited.

Instead she heard the rustle of his armor as he turned around again, continuing back down the boulder.

"Never mind."

.

* * *

.

Fenris paced just outside the camp's firelight, his feet sinking deeply into the still-warm sand. He was trying to decide what to say to Hawke, and how to say it. His mind was so intently focused that he didn't hear someone approach from behind.

"Trying to dig yourself out of here?" Fenris almost jumped at the sound her voice. He turned his head to face her, following her gaze to the small path he had forged in the sand.

"Anything's preferable to sharing a bunk with Isabela's crew." He responded, eliciting an amused grin from the woman.

He wasn't ready; he didn't know what to say. He couldn't screw this up now.

His mind was racing with possible escape options, but she appeared to possess about as much confidence and he did, so he decided to just begin,

"Hawk—,"

"Fenr—,"

It seemed they had both found their courage at the same time, and each stopped to allow the other to go on.

Fenris insisted she continue, pleased to have the opportunity to consider what he wanted to say, even if only a little longer.

"Well, first I want to apologize for the docks in Kirkwall."

His heart skipped a bit at the memory, but an apology was certainly not what he was looking for. He noted, with some amount of pleasure, the telltale flush of her ears. He could only just make out their reddening color in the distant flickering campfire.

Opening his mouth, he intended to correct her assumption, but she placed her hand on his arm, speaking first.

"Let me finish. I'm not very good at this, so bear with me."

He closed his mouth, allowing her to continue.

To his dismay, she dropped her hand from his arm, turning to pace instead, "I'm sorry about not being a better friend. I know it must seem crazy to you, but I forget about your past sometimes…" she paused her pacing, "I forget that you've experienced things that I— things I just can't even imagine."

He watched her shake her head at herself. He wanted to tell her not to worry, that he appreciated her words, but she continued before he could interrupt.

"What I'm trying to say is that you're one of my best friends. You're my family. I hope that won't change."

Fenris didn't know what to say. He was both touched, and perplexed. When she said that she didn't want that to change, was she saying she was ready to move on? He certainly wouldn't blame her, but it was not what he particularly wanted. Unfortunately for him, if he wasn't even entirely sure what he wanted, how could he explain it to Hawke?

Hawke cleared her throat a little, drawing Fenris back to reality. He realized she had been waiting for a response, so he quickly said the first words that came to mind,

"Thank you. I hope that won't change either." Her eyes flickered down a moment, in what Fenris desperately hoped was disappointment.

He chastised himself for his hasty response, _No. Stupid. Dumb. That is not what you want. Take it back, you fool._

"I mean, no… I," he almost regretted his stumbling speech more than his original statement. The only reprieve was the soft smile it elicited from Hawke's lips.

He cleared his throat, intending to finally formulate a coherent statement, when a delicate voice floated over from the fire. The melody immediately caught Hawke's attention. She offered Fenris another smile, but he could see her mind had become completely focused on something else. Before he could say more, she gave his arm a quick squeeze, and turned back towards the camp.

_Stupid. Stupid. Foolish—_

Fenris continued to chide himself as he followed her back to the warmth of the fire.

The voice belonged to Merrill. She sat between the pirate's legs, singing softly as the woman braided her hair.

Fenris watched Hawke study Merrill with growing curiosity. The woman appeared both confused and enamored simultaneously.

He listened to the song, it sounded Dalish, and wasn't something he readily recognized.

Elgara vallas, da'len  
Melava somniar  
Mala taren aravas  
Ara ma'desen melar

Iras ma ghilas, da'len  
Ara ma'nedan ashir  
Dirtha lothlenan'as  
Bal emma mala dir

Tel'enfenim, da'len  
Irassal ma ghilas  
Ma garas mir renan  
Ara ma'athlan vhenas  
Ara ma'athlan vhenas

"Merrill, what are you singing?" Hawke asked, startling Merrill to attention.

The Dalish woman smiled gently at her friend, as if reminiscing sweet memories, "Oh, an old Dalish lullaby. Something parents sing to their children." She shrugged her shoulders, as if suddenly becoming sad, "You know, that sort of thing."

"Do you know the lyrics in common tongue?" Hawke asked, sitting on the ground.

"Oh, um..." Merrill flushed a bit, as she cleared her throat, considering the translation before beginning,

Sun sets, little one,  
Time to dream  
Your mind journeys,  
But I will hold you here.

Where will you go, little one  
Lost to me in sleep?  
Seek truth in a forgotten land  
Deep within your heart.

Never fear, little one,  
Wherever you shall go.  
Follow my voice—  
I will call you home.  
I will call you home.

"Have you ever sung that before?" Hawke tilted her head at Merrill, while Fenris studied her creased brow.

"I'm not sure. Probably?" Merrill seemed confused, "Why?"

"I think I've heard it, at least I feel like I have."

There was a moment of silence while Fenris watched the women contemplate the idea. He could see the gears moving in Merrill's head, and he got the strange feeling the woman was on to something. On to what, he had no idea. It was clear however, that Hawke and Merrill shared information that they hadn't told anyone else. At least, they hadn't told him. Which, now that he considered it, was not a particularly strange notion.

"I suppose the Dalish do have pretty catchy songs." Merrill smiled, interrupting Fenris' thoughts.

"Alright then, let's hear another." Hawke leaned back, pulling up a bedroll to rest her head, her eyes following soon after.

Clearly no one was going to discuss whatever was passing between the woman tonight. So, Fenris sat down and leaned himself against the large boulder that provided most of their shelter. Soon, his eyes followed Hawke, and he passed into sleep.

.

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Woohoo! Chapter 18! I am so pleased that people are reading and (hopefully) enjoying my story. I know it takes me a while to post chapters, so I really appreciate those who are sticking with me. You're all amazing.

Dani.777- Thank you! I always love your reviews :) Fenris and Hawke are working on it, but it seems like they're getting somewhere.

paulaH and GJ- You're totally right! I know my previous response about Fenris was quite flippant, but you're spot on. Slavery not only took physical time and freedom away from Fenris, but it also took away proper development, life experiences, and his sense of self. Everything that made up who he is (until recently) was a warped and disgusting world of hate, fear, racism, and greed. He definitely had, and still has quite a bit to overcome.  
We got a little of that conversation you were asking for in this chapter, the next will definitely include more! :)


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